Fallen Angels
by swpf
Summary: AKA: L & Order This is an AU fic using my favorite pairing. It's not really meant to do anything but entertain and take your mind off the now-terrible canon world. Sharmen so don't like, don't read. Only the first chapter is told from Carmen's POV.R&R.
1. Prologue

I can still see it. I can always see it. It's always there with me.

It's the black and white video tape that always plays in my dreams.

There's the coolers, the aisles of junk food and other miscellaneous crap … and then, there she is.

Lara.

She's so cute and innocent. She's minding her own business, riffling through an assortment of candies until she picks out a bag of Skittles and a bag of M&Ms and goes to pay for them.

That's when everything gets dark and it switches to slow motion.

The gunman comes and yells at the cashier and Lara. His hands are shaking and he's sweating, but he knows what he's doing. No matter what the drugs ripping apart his brain are doing to him, no matter what his reasoning is, it's still all his fault.

And then he screams again, something like "Don't make me do this!" and shoots the cashier just before he shoots her…

and she slides down to ground and my heart stops just as hers does…

and the asshole gets away. Shaking, sweating, swearing, scared, but he still gets away.

And that's when my phone goes off, and tears me from my nightmare. I turn my head and see the digital clock read 4:39, yet another reason to I should quit my job.

"Yes? …. Where? … The Planet? …. I'm on my way."

I sigh and roll out of bed, but not before my hand grazes over the cool side of the bed out of habit. You'd think I'd stop doing this to myself after three years, but no.  
I get dressed quickly and run off a check list in my head:

_Shirt__  
__Jacket__  
__Pants__  
__Belt__  
__Holster__  
__Badge__  
__Gun_

I'm out the door in less than five minutes and headed to the crime scene. I'm slightly nauseous from last night, but I don't let bother me. The more I work, the less I time I have to think about her. The less I think about her…I don't know.

I pull up to The Planet and it's already taped off with, complete with lights flashing and anybody awake gawking at the scene. I step out and I'm immediately face to face with Officer Williams.

"Detective Morales," she greets me.  
"Officer Williams."  
"Sorry to wake you, but we've got a little situation."  
"It's okay. It didn't seem like I'd be getting a lot of sleep tonight anyway. What do we got?"  
"You're gonna have to see this one to believe it."

I shrug and she leads me inside this club that's apparently a coffee shop during the day. There's a fancy bar, some tables and dance floor. It looks like a nice place, but it's mostly empty, except for a few cops sitting around.

"Where is everybody?"  
"Oh, this isn't the crime scene." Williams motions me forward and brings me to a door. "_There_ is your crime scene."

I open the door and stand still. There's a girl up stuck against the window with her arms spread apart and her head hanging down. Her hair is a mess and she's almost a sickly yellow. There are bruises all over her face and dried blood on her shirt. At her feet there's a piece of paper written in blood that says "Fallen Angel".

My mouth hung open in disbelief until I finally let out, "It's a like a…"  
"A crucifix," someone next to me finished.

I turn my head and see this tall, skinny, figure leaning on the other side of the door. The first thing that comes to mind is _Who is this 16 year old boy on my crime scene?_

_  
_"Officer Williams, who is this?" I ask instead.  
"Sorry," the figure says, turning to me, offering a hand and smile. "I'm Shane McCutcheon."

I give her a blank stare.

"Uh, Detective Shane McCutcheon, LAPD. Are you Detective Morales?"

I nod.

"Then I guess that makes me your new partner."  
"Excuse me?"

TBC


	2. Boom

**Monday April 9: The Planet Café 5:08 a.m.**

Between the 4 am wakeup call and the sudden intrusion upon her life, Detective Carmen de la Pica Morales wasn't sure what she was more angry about, but she knew she was growing more pissed by the second.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, your captain didn't tell you? I spoke on the phone with her … Captain …"

"Kennard?" Morales finished sternly.

"Yeah yeah, that's her name. She didn't warn you?"

Morales wasn't sure if this woman was simply ignoring her anger or if she was just plain stupid, but she was hoping it was just kindness. The last thing she needed was another dumbass in her life.

"No."

"Oh." McCutcheon shrugged, stepping back and leaning on the on the other side of the wall again. Her low voice made the word sound more like a natural sigh. "Well, here I am." She smiled again before stepping into the room and examining the crime scene.

Dt. Morales stood in the doorway fuming for a few seconds before glancing over at Officer Williams.

Williams held her hands up innocently. "Hey, I didn't know. Take it up with the captain."

"Don't worry I will." Morales decided to stop being mad long enough to check out the crime scene, but end up checking her new partner out instead.

_She's kind of weird looking. She's tall and thin, really … lanky. Her hair is short and messy, so what's the point of wearing that Fedora? She kind of walks weird, like she owns the place. And she's wearing sunglasses. Why the fuck is she wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night? Dammit, I _did_ get stuck with a dumbass._

"Are you gonna check out the body?"

"What?"

"The body," Williams repeated. "The victim's body."

Morales shook her head, releasing herself from her reverie. "Right."

The two detectives stood next to each other and stared at the dead woman's face. However she died, she did not die happy. She was beaten, for starters. Her face was lost between the discoloration normally caused from bruising and the paleness associated with death. She must have been drunk at some point during the night because there is vomit in addition to the blood on her shirt.

"Do you want to, or should I?" McCutcheon asked, holding a rubber glove. Morales was too wrapped up in herself to care, so McCutcheon went to work slipping a glove on one hand and turning the girl's face from side to side.

"This girl went through hell," she said. "Maybe she OD'd?"

"Maybe, but the bruising also suggests that we should check for more serious injuries. Like a broken rib causing internal bleeding." Morales was mad, but not mad to enough to ignore her duties and get the job done, especially if she had to work with an idiot.

McCutcheon used her free hand to lower her glasses and look at Morales and for an instant, the tiniest millisecond that she wouldn't at admit to herself for a long time, Morales wasn't angry anymore, staring into the deep green pools that were her new partner's eye. But that millisecond was quickly over and she was back to her normal self.

McCutcheon sighed and shook her head. "Hey, can we get this girl down before her family has to buy a very oddly shaped casket?" she asked the uniformed officers.

As they pull down the girl's body, her wallet fell from her jacket and McCutcheon quickly picked it up.

She immediately pulled out the drivers license and began read the ID. "So what do you think happened to … Ms. Jennifer Schecter, Morales?"

"I'm not sure yet, but whatever happened, it didn't go down in this room. This room is too clean for there to have been any fighting or a beating to have happened in here."

"You're probably right, but…" McCutcheon paused, removing her glasses completely and looking Morales dead in the eye.

Morales felt that sudden calm rush over her again and her mouth just sort of ran on auto-pilot. "But that would mean somebody would have had to drag a dead girl from somewhere in the club into here just to hang her up."

McCutcheon smiled and let out a slight laugh. "Good to know I won't be working with a dumbass."

"Yeah… yeah, same here."

Officer Williams walked over to the detectives with her always professional attitude. "We have the club owner outside if you wanted to question her."

Morales looked over at McCutcheon whose eyes were transfixed on the spot where Jennifer's body had been. "Go on, I'll catch up," she said, not breaking her gaze.

Williams led Morales over the bar where a woman with long wavy black hair was sitting, patiently but anxiously, with her hands wrapped around a steaming coffee mug and her head bowed. The detective walked over and greeted her politely as possible, knowing she'd been here too long and was probably dying to get home.

"Hey, we're gonna try and get you out of her as soon as possible. I just need you to answer a few questions, Ms. Ferrer."

"Whatever you say, detective," the woman said with her foreign accent.

"Did you know Jenifer?"

"Yes, Jenny was a regular. She mostly came in the mornings with her roommate and sometimes she came at night. Every now and then she'd come in with her boyfriend, Tim."

"Did you see her tonight?"

"I saw her walk in around eleven. I didn't see her again until I came into the office before I got ready to leave. That's when I saw her like that …" her voice trailed off.

Morales sighed internally; it was always harder to question them when they started tearing up. She needed to finish quickly. "Is your office usually open?"

"No, it's always locked. My business partner, Kit must have let her in. She left before I locked up."

"Could you write down your partner's name and phone number for me?"

Marina nodded and quietly did as she was asked. The news seemed to be affecting her more than it should. She'd obviously cried and was holding back more still. Morales noted her irregular breathing pattern and was about to ask about her relationship with Jenny when…

"Morales!" McCutcheon yelled, running from the office.

"What the hell is wrong with.."

"Everybody, out, now!" McCutcheon yelled cutting her off. "I'm serious!" she screamed when nobody moved.

Morales just stared at her with anger in disbelief as everyone else around them cleared the building. "What the fuck is wrong with you? What are you.."

"Is there a bomb squad out there?"

"What? No, why would.."

"Then you need to get out of here."

"But.."

McCutcheon didn't give her anymore time to speak and pushed her partner out the door just in time for the bomb under the desk in the office to go off, blowing the bar and café to pieces and knocking her onto the ground, on top of her new partner all with one loud

Boom

_One hell of a first day._

TBC


	3. Sigh

As Dt. Shane McCutcheon covered her head and used her own body to protect her partner's body from the oncoming shrapnel, only one thing ran through her head.

_It could be worse._

Since the bomb had been of a fairly small range, there wasn't as much force or danger to fear once they were outside The Planet.

"McCutcheon?" Morales called from under her, turning her head after the debris had stopped flying.

"Yeah?"

"……. Please tell me that's a gun sticking me in the ass."

"……. You know, I'm proud to say it is."

"Good to know………One more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Could you get off me now?"

Monday April 9: Los Angeles Police Station 8:24 a.m.

McCutcheon leafed through a set of files (still wearing her sunglasses) with her feet propped up on the desk and occasionally looked up her partner who was looking at things on her computer with a mix of fury and impatience.

Dt. Morales looked far too serious, or at least that's what McCutcheon thought after staring at her for the past few hours. She was pretty, gorgeous even. She just looked pissed off all the time, it made McCutcheon wonder what she looked like when she smiled. Well, if she ever smiled. She also wanted to know what her hair looked like when it was down instead of in that drab, professional ponytail it was in. She'd bet it looked hot, but then she caught herself staring and thanked god for sunglasses; the last thing she needed was for this woman to go off on her.

Suddenly Dt. Morales' head snapped up as blond woman in her late thirties came in and walked straight passed their desks into her own office. McCutcheon heard her mutter what she was sure were some curse words in Spanish, before getting up and heading towards the office.

"Do you want me to come with you?" McCutcheon knew the answer to the question, but asked anyway.

Morales had apparently forgotten her presence, because she wheeled around with a look of confusion on her face at first. "Uh, no. I'll be fine." She shook her head, turned back around, entered the office, and slammed the door behind her.

"Okay… So, where's the vending machine around here?" McCutcheon asked to no one in particular.

Monday April 9: Captain Tina Kennard's Office 8:32 a.m.

"Morning Morales," the captain sighed, knowing what was coming next. She hadn't even set down her coffee mug when the detective came barreling in the door.

"What the fuck was that?" Morales yelled.

"By that, I assume you've met your new partner." Tina was trying to be patient, but she knew it wasn't going to work. Patience never really got her anywhere.

"Yeah, her. Did you plan on telling me _before_ she walked to my crime scene or did you plan this as an early birthday gift?"

Kennard let out another sigh. "Look, Morales, you knew you were going to a partner sooner or later. And before you say anything, no you can't work alone."

"But…" Morales began.

"And before you start questioning her competence, didn't she already save your life by detecting a bomb under a desk that no one else looked under?"

"... Okay, but…"

"And it wasn't a fluke; Detective McCutcheon has worked in departments all over the country and each one of them has given her glorifying recommendations. She's good and you're not getting rid of her. I'm trying to do you a favor here, Carmen."

"I don't need any of your favors."

"Yes, you apparently do. I can't be there to save your ass every time you go flying off the rail! You need to grow up and get over what's wrong with you or else…"

Kennard stopped for a second and looked at Morales who was glaring at her with her arms folded and her hips tilted to one side, signifying she already finished with this conversation.

Tina sighed again (she noticed she did that a lot when this detective was around). "Look, Carmen, I'm just asking you to try and make it work, okay? Please, try not to run this one off too. Now, you should get down to that girl's house and question her roommate."

Now, it was Morales' turn to sigh. "Yeah, sure, whatever," she nodded and turned to leave.

As soon as she opened the door, she was face to face with Dt. McCutcheon and her sunglasses.

"Uh, ready to go?"

Monday April 9: Somewhere on the streets of West Hollywood 9:02 a.m.

"So, are you mad at me?" McCutcheon asked from the passenger's seat of the unmarked car.

"No." Morales answered simply, not taking her eyes off the road.

"But you're mad at something?"

"No."

"Are you mad about something?"

"I'm generally mad about something."

"Are you mad about me?"

"I already said I wasn't mad at you."

"Being mad _at_ me and being mad about the fact that I'm here are two different things."

"….."

"So, are you mad about me?"

"Yes," Morales finally answered.

"Good. I like to know what I'm up against."

Morales gritted her teeth, but her eyes never left the road. "Why are you doing this? Why? Why do you feel the need so sort me out? We're not going to be friends."

"Of course, you don't even consider me your partner."

"Stop that! Stop analyzing me. Stop trying to figure me out and just do your job."

McCutcheon was about to point out that part of her job was actually being her partner, but she decided not to risk it. Instead, she leaned back a little in the car seat and looked up at the upholstery. "Sorry."

"Don't be." _I don't think you can help it._

The car drove along in silence for a few more minutes before pulling up to house. It wasn't very large, there was a porch, a driveway, and a garden off to the side in front of a tool shed type area. The detectives got out of their car and made their way up to the door to ring the door bell. After a few unsuccessful rings, the door was finally answered by a half asleep woman in her early twenties.

She blinked at the bright light of the sun coming off the two women in her doorway. One had her arm drawn up on the door frame with an unreadable stare behind her dark shades and man's suit. The other one had an all business look on her face with her bad-ass glare and leather jacket to match. "H-hello?"

The all-business one stepped forward and offered her hand. "Hi, I'm Detective Morales and this is Detective McCutcheon. We're from the LAPD. Do you live here?"

"Yes."

"Do you know anyone by the name of Jennifer Schecter?" Dt. Morales asked.

"Yeah, she's my roommate. Why, did something happen?"

___________________________________

Monday April 9: Schecter/ Stevens Household 9:34 a.m.

Jenny Schecter's roommate, Nikki Stevens, had been crying on the couch in their house for almost a half hour. Homicide detectives in general are used to dramatic reactions, but this was getting to be too much for the both of them. At first Morales had tried, but to no avail and now McCutcheon was trying to talk to her, but it's hard to talk to a person while they're sobbing and hyperventilating. After a while McCutcheon gave up and walked over to her partner who observing the mess from the kitchen.

"So, what are we gonna do?" McCutcheon asked her.

"I don't know. How do you get a person to talk if they can't stop crying?"

McCutcheon shrugged. "Make 'em stop crying……….. Please don't shoot me. I'm gonna go try again."

"Yeah, you do that."

McCutcheon sighed (as everyone seemed to be sighing today), pulling off her hat and her glasses and set them on the table in the kitchen. She walked back into the living room, knelt down, looked Nikki Stevens in the eyes, and put her hand on her knees. "Nikki, look at me."

Nikki took a deep breath and tried to do as she was told.

"Nikki, I need you to look at me. Jenny needs you to breathe and look at me."

Nikki took another deep breath and nodded. She moved her head up until her gaze met the detective's and she stopped sobbing.

"Okay, good. Now, we're going to catch whoever did this, but we need your help."

Morales stood by and watched as her words had this calming effect on this girl. She was starting to get hypnotized a little herself. It was little like magic.

_So this is what she does._

"Detective McCutcheon…" Nikki began.

"You can call me Shane if you want to."

"Okay, Shane," Nikki said with a slight smile between the tear. "I don't know who would want to kill Jenny. Everybody loved her. _Everybody_."

"Alright. Has there been anybody unusual around her or around the house?"

"I haven't seen her around anyone weird. And there's been nobody here but the three of us."

McCutcheon stole a curious glance at her partner before going back to Nikki. "The three of you? Somebody else lives here?"

"Yeah, Max. He lives in the studio back there."

"You mean that little shack in the backyard?"

"Yeah, but he wanted to be back there. He said he likes his privacy."

"Is he out there now, we'd like to talk to him too."

"Probably not. We don't even see him that much. He spends a lot of time at work."

After asking Nikki about Max and Jenny's boyfriend and all the other general questions that usually went along with meeting the family, the Detectives finally strolled out of the Schecter/ Stevens/ Sweeney household.

______________________________________

McCutcheon adjusted her hat and sunglasses as she walked back towards the car. "I don't like that girl," she said when they were finally in the car. "She's full of shit."

"Really, now, _Shane?_ And what are you?" Morales asked as she pulled off.

"Oh, you've got jokes. You know, you could call me Shane, too, if you wanted. I figure McCutcheon takes too long to say sometimes."

"And what makes you think I'll be saying your name that much?"

"I figured if we have to be around each other this much, we should at least try to be civil, even if you don't want to be friends."

"Yeah, look, I'm sorry about that. It's just…today is not my day."

"But the day just started."

"Yeah, I know."

"So, can I call you Carmen?"

"I guess."

"Can I call you Carm?"

"Don't push it."

TBC


	4. Question

Monday April 9: Kit Porter's Apartment 9:48 a.m.

Dt. Shane McCutcheon and her partner both took a seat on the couch. Ms. Porter had offer them something to drink, but Morales had said they'd rather get it over with as quickly as possible.

"Ma'am," she said, leaning forward as Kit sat in a chair across from them. "How well would you say you knew Jenny?"

"Pretty well I guess," Kit answered. "She was always coming in for breakfast and she stopped by the club at night sometimes." It was obviously hard on her too, but even with her club blown up, she still wasn't taking it half as bad as Nikki.

"Did you let her into the office last night?" Shane asked, finally adding her own voice into the mix.

"Yeah, she'd had a hard night. I think her boyfriend had just broken up with her."

Morales looked up at her. "You mean Tim?"

"Yes."

Carmen didn't like the sound of this. "But we just talked to Jenny's roommate Nikki. She said that they were happy and in love just yesterday."

"I know," Kit admitted, "that was the crazy part. I don't know why those two would split, it's like they were made for each other."

McCutcheon could feel herself falling asleep; she hated he-said-she-said crimes. _Why can't people kill for real reasons anymore?_

Instead she asked a more productive question. "Did you let anybody else in the office last night?"

"Only Max."

"Max Sweeney?" Carmen asked. "As in Jenny's other roommate?"

"Yeah, he's the one who brought her up to me and asked if they could hang out in the office."

"And that was the last time you saw her?"

"Yes."

"What did she look like?" Shane asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Did she have any marks on her? Was she bleeding?"

"No, but she had red, puffy eyes. Like she'd been crying."

Carmen started to finish up the questions. "Can you think of anyone suspicious you've seen hanging around Jenny lately or anything at all out of the ordinary?"

"No, and I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt that girl. She was so sweet, everybody loved her."

McCutcheon nodded. "I guess so."

Monday April 9: Los Angeles Police Station 11:35 a.m.

"Okay", Kennard said, leaning back in the conference room chair. "Talk to me."

Morales tacked the picture up on the board. "Jennifer Schecter. Age: 29. Apparently, an up incoming fiction writer; she was supposed to go meet with a publisher in San Diego next week."

"What kind of publisher is in San Diego?"

"A very small one," McCutcheon answered. "Jenny wasn't the only rising star in the house, though."

She pinned up a license photo of Nikki. "Nikki Stevens here is an actress. Moved out to LA two years ago to take on show business. So far she's had her fair share of extra bits and even a few lines in some well known movies. The last roommate is a Mr. Max Sweeney, who we still haven't seen yet. We couldn't find a picture of him in the DMV files, but Nikki loaned us a picture from his last birthday party."

"So he doesn't have a license?" Kennard asked.

"But he does drive," Morales added. "According to Nikki, anyway, he owns a black pickup truck that he uses to get around. To get to work in particular."

"Right," Shane chimed in. "At a big shot computer programming company called IntecMode. Problem is, we called IntecMode and they'd never heard of a Max Sweeney."

"Yeah, but they had heard of Moira Sweeney," Carmen spoke up before her boss could ask. "And _she_ stopped working there four and a half months ago. No reasons, no warnings, she just quit."

"But Nikki says Max has never missed a payment on the rent. The good people at IntecMode were kind enough to send us the picture on Moira's work ID." McCutcheon added that picture to the wall next to the birthday party photo.

Kennard was getting lost. "So Moira and Max _are _the same person?"

" Yes and Max/ Moira isn't the only one missing," Carmen informed Tina. "We're still looking for the boyfriend, Tim Haspel. We've already been to his apartment and the university where he works as a girl's swim coach. We've even tried calling him, but nothing."

The captain stood up and looked at the board. "What about the bomb at the planet? Who could have put it there?"

Carmen stepped back and looked at it too. "Theoretically, anybody could have done it. But only Jenny, Tim, and Max were seen there last night. None of these people have criminal records. No robberies, assaults, drug… nothing. Whoever did this to Jenny was doing it for a strictly personal reason."

Shane shook her head. "I don't believe in theories. The bomb that went off, according to forensics, was small range timed incendiary. It reads like a big Molotov cocktail, but it's really a low quantity of high grade C-4. In other words, it's hard to get your hands on unless you've got some damn good connections. Also, it wasn't an attempt on The Planet, that bomb was planted specifically to blow up the office. I think it was planted to blow up Jenny."

Carmen picked up the folder with the autopsy report and started reading. "Estimated time of death is 1 a.m., Ferrer didn't even call the cops until 4:30 and the bomb didn't go off until 5. And Jenny didn't die from just one thing. It's like she died a few times. She was on the verge of OD'ing but based on the contents in her stomach she puked up most of it. Not mention she was on the verge of alcohol poisoning. Added to that, she was brutally beaten. She face was just fine compared to all the blows she took to the gut. She was bleeding on the inside for a long time. And all this had to happen before 1:30 at the latest. That's huge time gap."

"I know, that's why it's so weird."

The captain turned around and looked at Shane. "So, basically, we've got nothing."

"Not nothing," McCutcheon said, "just… nothing yet. Because everybody is missing, but all this nothing might just be something."

"You're making me dizzy," Carmen said.

"Well, find them," Kennard ordered. "Stake out the victim's house until Max or whoever shows up, I want him questioned. Then, find that boyfriend. One or both of these guys must have done something to just disappear all of a sudden. And let's try and get this case solved quickly, the chief is breathing down my neck about this because her sister is part owner of The Planet."

"Kit is Chief Porter's sister?" Morales asked.

"Half sister, really, but she's still mad about the whole 'blown up café incident'."

"Alright," McCutcheon said, heading for the door with Morales behind her.

Kennard noticed the almost choreographed way they moved, the semi-synchronized sway in their steps. "Hey, Morales, can I talk to you?"

She sent Shane ahead, closed the door and turned around. "What's up?"

Kennard had the beginnings of a smirk on her lips. "You two seem to be getting along well."

Morales shrugged. "She's alright. She's little out there, but she's alright."

"I haven't seen you be decent to a partner in ages, since…"

"Yeah, I know," Carmen cut her off. "Can I go now?"

"Uh, sure, I was just letting you know I'm happy for you."

"That's great." Morales turned on her heels and quickly walked out the door over to the desk McCutcheon was sitting at with her feet propped up and her hat dipped down over her eyes. She looked kind of like a cigarette ad.

Morales paused for a second and looked again at her. A slight smile approached the edges of her mouth before asking, "You hungry?"

Monday April 9: Outside the Schecter/ Stevens/ Sweeney House 1:49 p.m.

Morales sipped a soda through her straw as she stared out the car window towards the door of the house. Her partner sat beside her quietly, slowly sucking on a Popsicle. That was part of the reason she had turned around. Annoyance was starting to turn into temptation and that was an annoyance in and of itself.

"Hey, Carmen."

"Yeah," she answered absent mindedly.

"It's your turn."

They'd been sitting in the car for more than an hour and after a while Shane came up with the idea of asking and answering whatever questions came into each other's heads. Not as a way to get to know each other, just as a way to pass the time. Morales hadn't really agreed to the game so much as McCutcheon had forced it on her with repeated begging and attempted bribery. Normally, she'd have preferred to just sit there and ignore whoever was in the passenger's seat (because, of course, she always drove) and focus on the point of interest, but she decided to play nice. At least for now.

Carmen didn't remove her eyes from the door. "Okay, where are you from?"

"I'm from LA originally."

Carmen turned and gave her a curious look. "But I thought you'd worked all over."

Shane took the Popsicle out of her mouth and licked her lips to get off the melted residue. "I have. I've been in New York, D.C., Houston, and I worked in Miami for a second, but it wasn't really my style."

Carmen could feel that hypnotizing affect on her again while her mouth asked question with her mind's help. "How'd you end up back in LA?"

"I kind of missed it, plus my family is still back here and I like seeing my little brother. By the way, that was two questions. I could count three, but I'm being nice."

Carmen was still fighting that smile. "Fine, go ahead."

"Okay." Shane gave the Popsicle a brief lick before coming up with a question. "Uh… why did you want to be a cop?"

"As an excuse to shoot people," Carmen said automatically and turned back around.

"Bullshit," Shane laughed. "C'mon, gimme a real answer."

"What? That's mostly it." She turned and saw Shane glaring at her with lowered shades.

"Okay, fine," she admitted. "My dad was a cop when I was younger and then my older brother became a cop. When I was a kid I was a total tomboy and that drove my dad crazy. He always went about how he would have hated one of his daughters to become a cop. I guess I did it as part of my rebellious nature. Plus, I just like making my dad angry."

"Alright, pissing off family," Shane nodded with the last of the Popsicle in her mouth. "I guess that's a good enough reason." She bit off the last piece and swallowed, shaking away an oncoming brain-freeze. "Now, are you always this angry or am I getting special treatment for new partners?"

Carmen scoffed. "Fuck you."

Shane had to bite her tongue for a second. "Sorry, but I had to ask."

"You know, I really don't get you. One minute you're all like 'let's be friends' and now you're questioning if I'm treating you like shit for the hell of it."

McCutcheon glanced past Morales and saw a black truck pulling up at the house. A dark figure got out of the car and headed for the porch. "Carmen," she tried to say.

"No, don't interrupt me. You don't have any right to come in here and just take over my life. I don't even need a partner."

"Carmen! You can yell at me later all you want, but right now turn around!"

Carmen quickly spun her head around, accidentally smacking Shane in the face with her ponytail. "Who is that?"

"I'll give you one guess," Shane said starting out of the car. "Max Sweeny!" she called. Carmen of got out on the other side of the car. "LAPD, we need to talk to you!"

The figure jumped off the porch and ran for the backyard. The detectives took off chasing them and Shane caught up the suspect faster while he was caught on a fence he was trying to jump over. Shane grabbed his jacket and tried to pull him down, but he punched her in the face and tried to shake loose. Instead he fell down top of her and was about to run off again when he came looked up to gun in his face.

"Max Sweeney, you're under arrest."


	5. Fair

Monday April 9: Los Angeles Police Department Bathroom 2:31 p.m.

Dt. Shane McCutcheon stood in the empty bathroom examining herself in the mirror. She lightly ran her fingers over the bruise on her cheek and winced at the pain. She moved her had down on the cut her lip.

"Shit," she muttered.

Her partner walked in silently and moved over to her.

"Are you okay?"

Shane nodded. "I'll be alright, I've had worse."

"Let me see," Carmen said, lightly taking Shane's face in her hand.

Shane tried to hide the pain when Carmen touched her. "So, are you still mad at me?"

Carmen actually let out a laugh. "No, I think Max took care of that for me." She looked up and saw Shane grinning at her. "What?"

"That's the first time all day that you've smiled. And all it took was for me to get clocked in the face by a perp on the run."

"Shut up. I'm only smiling because I'm laughing at you, now hold still."

"It's just a bruise."

Carmen gently ran her thumb over Shane's cheek and jaw… and lip.

She pulled back her hand as soon as she realized what was doing. "I-I'm sorry."

"Please, don't worry about it."

"No, uh, I mean that." Carmen pointed to the red wetness coming from the corner of Shane's mouth.

Shane turned and looked in the mirror. "Shit, I'm bleeding again."

Carmen quickly wet some paper towels and dabbed them on Shane's bleeding lip.

"Okay, so this how someone becomes friends with you?" Shane asked. "They have to be assaulted and embarrassed and _then_ you'll play nurse for them?"

"Fuck you."

"You know, you say that a lot."

Carmen put down the paper towel. "First of all, this is not playing nurse and you look like the kind of person who should know. Secondly, I don't know, maybe I'll like you more if you keep getting beat up. Why don't you find out? Now, you can dress your own wounds while _I _go talk to the suspect."

She turned on her heels exited bathroom as she ignored the fact that Shane was mostly likely staring at her ass.

Shane picked up the paper towel and dabbed it on her lip.

"Shit," she muttered.

Monday April 9: Los Angeles Police Dpt. Outside the Interrogation Room 2:39

McCutcheon was surprised to see Morales standing by the door. "I thought you were gonna go ahead?"

"It didn't seem right with you being such a big member of his fan club and all."

"Thanks… I guess."

They entered the room and looked at the man at the table with his head bowed and circular haircut cascading over his eyes that were red and cheeks that were stained in dried up tears.

"Max Sweeney," Morales called, "or do you prefer Moira?"

He raised his head and looked at the both of them. "I'm not Moira anymore, my name is Max. Please, call me Max."

Morales moved over to the chair across from him. "So, where have you been, Max?"

Max sniffed and raised his head. "What are you talking about? Why am I even in here? You have no right to arrest me."

Morales pointed back at McCutcheon. "My partner's face says otherwise. We've got you at least for assault of a police officer. I suggest you start talking now or you're going down for homicide too."

"But, I didn't do anything. You have to believe me."

Morales stood up and leaned by the window as McCutcheon came forward. She took off her hat and ran her fingers through her hair.

"You see, that's the problem, Max. We can't really believe you because your fingerprints are all over the crime scene and you were the last person to be seen with her alive."

"But I didn't do anything," Max pleaded.

McCutcheon bent down so she was closer to Max's ear and spoke in her low voice. "Then make me believe it."

She slowly moved back away and stared at Max.

"Look, I was at that club last night. I was outside in the alley when I saw Jenny stumble out the back."

"What were you doing in the alley?" Morales asked.

"I was having a cigarette. Anyway, Jenny came outside and she was crying. She wouldn't tell me why but she was crying and she wouldn't stop. So… so I asked Kit if we could hang out in her office for a little while until I could get her to calm down."

"Why didn't you take her home?" McCutcheon asked.

"I don't know, I-I wasn't thinking." Max took a turn for the worse and started crying harder. "Oh, God. I should have taken her home, then she'd still be…" His voice began to break and he sobbed in between words. "I'm… sorry… Jenny…"

Morales got off the wall and moved closer to Max. "Tell us what happened next."

He nodded and tried to get his breathing under control. "We went in the room and I tried to calm her down. I tried to get her to tell me what was wrong but she told it me didn't matter. She asked me to go get her some water. I got held up at the bar and there were so many people…" His voice trailed off.

Morales put both her hands down on the table and spoke quietly. "What happened next?"

"I-I came back… and she was dying. She was bleeding and she was sitting on the floor looking at me she was dying. She looked like someone had messed her up real bad, like they beat her."

"It's not fair," he sniffed. "I can't believe he did that to her."

"Who?" McCutcheon asked.

"Tim," Max said, shaking his head.

"What makes you think it was Tim?"

"It had to be Tim. She would have done anything for him. She loved him and it wasn't fair."

"Why not?" Morales asked.

"Because he didn't love her like I did! I would have done anything for Jenny and he treated her like shit! She was an angel and he treated her like garbage. He didn't deserve her, I did, and he threw her away."

McCutcheon put her hat back and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "So, you had a relationship with Jenny?"

Max didn't answer, he just shook his head repeatedly like her was trying to drown out ever sound he'd ever heard with the swishing noises in his head.

"I forgot… It's not fair… I forgot… It's not fair…" over and over again.

"What did you forget? What's not fair?" Morales asked.

He stopped shaking and looked up. His eyes darted between Morales and McCutcheon, and back and forth and finally slammed his hands down on the table.

He stood up and yelled at the both of them.

"It's not right! I'm not supposed to be here!" He put his hand on top of his head and started crying again. "I'm not supposed to be here."

Monday April 9: Los Angeles Police Dpt. Interrogation Observation Room 3:06 p.m.

Kennard, Morales, and McCutcheon stood in little space behind the interrogation room, observing Max from behind a two-way mirror. He was still sobbing, but quietly now with his hands over his head, trying to shield himself.

"So, what do think?" the captain asked.

Morales spoke first. "I don't think he's the murderer, but I think he's messed up. It's like he suffering from moods swings, but they only swing from bad to worse."

Tina moved closer to the glass. "So, you think he's on drugs?"

Morales shrugged and McCutcheon took over. "He's f-to-m. It's probably the testosterone that he's taking. If he got it under the radar, then it's probably screwing with his mind a lot. And you know what else I think?"

Kennard shook her head while Morales answered. "You think he's the bomber. You think the reason the bomb went off so late was because it wasn't intended to blow up the crime scene, it was a suicide attempt gone wrong. That bomb was what he forgot. That's why he's not supposed to be here."

Shane nodded. "I also think we need to search his house to see what else he might have forgotten."

"You're going to need a warrant, then." Tina was kind of lost in all the unsaid goings on, but she was trying to keep up. "And I still need you to find that boyfriend. The chief is breathing down my neck about new information."

A knock came on the door and Officer Williams entered. "We just got word on Tim Haspel's whereabouts. He's out of town for a meet with his swim team and won't be back until Thursday."

McCutcheon turned around and looked at the captain. "Found him… sort of."


	6. Who Needs Friends?

Monday April 9: Los Angeles Police Dpt. 3:15 p.m.

Detective Shane McCutcheon found herself in the same position she'd found herself in a few hours ago: her feet propped up on a desk, pretending to look at files while staring at her partner from behind her dark sunglasses. It was getting harder and harder not look at her, especially after the bathroom.

That gentle caress against her lip, it sent shivers down her spine, but she'd never show it.

And she was right about the smile; it made her even more gorgeous, if that was possible. That was also the first time she saw her eyes up close. They were the kind of deep brown the let you get lost in the warmth of their essence if you weren't careful. It was starting to drive Shane crazy. When Carmen had smiled at her, even though she was openly mocking Shane's embarrassing "fight", Shane immediately grinned that big goofy grin that usually only came out when she was around her close friends and family.

Not the girl who was next on her to do list.

_Stop it, Shane. Do you want another repeat?_

She did, sort of. It'd been fun while it lasted. It was always fun until the shit hit the fan and someone found out, got jealous or prejudiced and wanted Shane's head on a platter.

But that wasn't how she wanted this one to end. Namely, because she still wanted to be in LA, at least for now. But also, this woman was… odd – that was her best word for it. Well, maybe not odd, but she certainly had different affect on Shane.

Whatever it was, it was throwing Shane off her usual game. She was used to having incompetent partners, usually guys who didn't know the perp from their own asses and had the tendency to get shot at. She'd gotten lucky this time; she appreciated a partner with a brain. No matter how angry she was (or pretended to be) she was at least a good cop and that's all that mattered.

No matter how distracting she was.

McCutcheon craned her head awkwardly to the side, trying to get look at Morales who had just moved at an odd angle behind her computer. Morales noticed and looked up at her with a raised eyebrow.

"What are you doing?"

McCutcheon quickly returned to her original position. "Stretching my neck," she thought of quickly.

"Right," Morales said, obviously not believing a word.

She changed the subject. "Hey, Shane, have you ever dated a straight girl?"

McCutcheon wore the same cocky smirk she'd had on at 4 am. "Why, are you offering?"

Morales bit her bottom lip and rolled her eyes (now, that drove Shane crazy). "Who told you I was straight?"

"No one, but I'll take an offer whenever I see it." Now she was starting to sound desperate and she kicked herself internally for it.

"It wasn't an offer, it was a question."

Shane felt her heart rate slow down a little; she didn't even know it was going that fast. "Yeah, I have on occasion."

"And how does that normally work out for you?"

"Just fine until…" She paused and put it together in her head. "...the boyfriend finds out."

Carmen nodded. "That's what I thought."

"So you're sure it's Tim? What about everybody else?"

"I'm not saying they aren't capable, but come over here." Shane moved over behind Carmen to get a look at her computer screen, but kept her distance. "Apparently Tim Haspel has a record of violence."

"But, I thought nobody on the list had a criminal record."

"No, but in 2004, Tim had assault charges placed against him by his head coach. It looks like he got into argument about not being named the team's MVP and tried to attack the coach in the locker room."

"So he has a big ego on top of all that. What happened to the charges?"

"They just disappeared. His father, some billionaire named James Haspel, paid the coach off with an undisclosed amount to keep his mouth shut and make the problem go away." Morales sighed and leaned back. "I hate rich kids."

McCutcheon chuckled nervously. "Me too."

Morales let out a little laugh and looked at her. "Oh, don't tell me you're one of them."

McCutcheon laughed as well. "I'm not. It's just that if something happens to my father – not that I want it to – I can retire from the force whether or not my twenty is up and move to Arizona."

"Arizona?"

"Well, I don't wanna go back to Florida. How about Spain or Italy? I could hang out there."

"Why not the south of France?" Morales asked sarcastically.

"I hate the language. And the food. It's not all it's cracked up to be."

"Has anybody ever told you that you were extremely weird?"

"Only as a complement." McCutcheon smiled that sly, cocky smile and Morales couldn't help but smile at how ridiculous she was.

Carmen looked up at Shane and saw their faces were barely inches apart. Shane noticed it too and immediately moved back to her chair. Carmen was about to say something when she heard the clack of heels coming down the hallway and a cartoonish laugh.

"Mierda," she muttered as she saw the nosey blond woman approaching.

"What?" Shane asked with a confused look.

Carmen ignored her and Shane could only hear the faint muttering of the words "Goddam ADA."

"Hey, ugly," that cartoony voice called to Morales. "I see you got yourself a new partner. Did they find your old one's body yet?"

She knew she was joking, but this woman had a way of annoying Carmen like no one else. "Go to Hell, Al."

Alice just smirked. "Aww, you know you love me, Carmen. Who's the new victim?"

Shane wheeled around in chair to see the smiley blond woman in her tomboy power suit and laughed. "Holy shit, you're the goddammed ADA?" She stood up as she was pulled into a hug.

Alice laughed as well and squeezed Shane tightly. "What the fuck, Fatty! You didn't tell me you were back in town."

Carmen just had a look of confusion on her face as she watched to two exchange the pleasantries of age old friends. "You two know each other?"

"God, Carmen, you didn't tell me about your new partner," Alice said excitedly.

"That's because I just found out about her this morning… at 4 am," she added with hint of anger.

"This is Shane McCutcheon, my best friend since, like, forever. She's practically family."

Alice and Shane stood looking at Carmen with their arms around each other's necks like two kids on the playground posing for a picture with the matching crazy smiles to boot.

"I can see the resemblance." Carmen couldn't help but feel an implaceable feeling, but she squished it down for further examination later.

"Eww," Alice said, turning to Shane. "I don't wanna look like Yoda."

"And what do you think I wanna look like, you?" Shane asked.

"Nah, blonde doesn't really work on you. But, hey, I can't believe you're back. Does your dad know? Have you seen Shay? What happened to that girl in Miami? What happened to your face? And what the hell is up with those sunglasses? Are you high? No, wait, don't answer that. Legal implications."

"Al!" the detectives called at the same time.

"You're doing that thing again," Shane said.

"What?" Alice asked.

"Talking," Carmen said, dryly.

"Oh, great. Now, you're mocking me in unison. Great to see you're merging already."

Carmen was suffering from a headache, and it was only getting worse by the second (as it tended to when Alice was around). She didn't really have the patience for her insanity today of all days.

"Alice," she said in one of her warning tones,"when you came down here, was there an actual reason?"

"Oh," Alice snapped her finger. "There was a reason. Lucky you two, I've got your case."

_Shit._

"And that means, I can't have you two slacking off, so what the hell are you two doing?"

"Waiting for a warrant," Shane said, moving back to her seat.

"Well, that's boring. And, by the way, they're letting your guy, Sweeney, go."

"Why?" Carmen asked.

"Not enough evidence to hold him and he's paying the bail for his assault charges. Which, would explain that bruise on your face, I guess," Alice said to Shane. "You better find somebody, and soon. I heard the chief is raising hell about this. Was her sister hurt or something?"

"Hardly," Carmen said. "Her sister knew the victim and hers was the club where they found her."

"It also kind of got blown up," Shane added. "But it wasn't anything major. At least the framework is still up."

"Ah, same old Shane," Alice sighed. "Acting all nonchalant. 'It's just a bomb,'" she said in deep, low voice, mocking Shane. "All in a day's work, huh?"

Carmen's patience was running thin. "Need anything else, Alice?"

"Nope. I guess that's my signal to leave you two alone so she can kill you and dump your body in the lake," she whispered to Shane. "Bye guys."

Alice turned and walked down the hallway with her heels clacking and bright smile as she talked to people along the way. Carmen wasn't completely sure what it was about Alice that bothered her so much - even though Alice swore up and down they were friends, and maybe, in their own weird way, they were - but she guessed it was her general bubbliness that turned her stomach and made her want to push the woman off a cliff. Otherwise she and Alice got along just fine. She couldn't help but wonder what a person as calm and reserved as Shane was doing hanging around Alice. But then she remembered how odd her partner was and decided that must have been what brought the two together.

Bonding over being random, she supposed.

Morales heard heels coming down the hallway again, but these were from a different person. McCutcheon looked back and saw Nikki Stevens quickly coming up to their desks. She had gotten dressed since this morning and was showing off her LA fashion with her oversized sunglasses and green dress with a golden band around her waist. Her long, wavy, brown hair bounced as she smiled her best smile and walked over McCutcheon.

"Hi, Shane," she said excitedly, removing her ridiculously oversized sunglasses.

Shane exhaled. "Hi, Nikki. What are you doing here?"

Carmen could see Shane's eyebrows rise curiously behind her own shades.

"Max called and said he was in trouble," Nikki explained. "He asked me to bring his bail money, but is there any way I could see him first?"

McCutcheon looked back and Morales who gave her an 'I don't care' shrug. McCutcheon turned back to Nikki. "Yeah, I guess I can take you."

Nikki smiled even more. "Thanks, but do you think I could talk to him alone?"

McCutcheon looked back at her partner again and this time received a 'What the hell is she talking about?' look.

"I'll see what I can do," Shane said.

Monday April 9: Los Angeles Police Dpt. Interrogation Observation Room 3:49 p.m.

With a little coercion - not much at all, really - McCutcheon had gotten Nikki to agree to have her conversation monitored. Now she and Morales stood behind the double mirror again and watched as an officer brought Max in. He was handcuffed and looked extremely tired. He slumped down in the seat and leaned over the table as the officer let him go and walked out the door.

"What are you doing here Nikki?" Max asked.

"What do you mean? You asked me to come here."

"I asked you to come here and pay my bail, not have an observed conversation with me." Max's voice was stronger and sterner, as if he were talking to a child.

"No, I need to know what you told them."

"Then why couldn't we talk about this home?" His tone silently added the words 'you dumbass'.

Nikki spoke in a quiet and concise tone. "Because I'm not sure if I want to let you out. I'm not sure what you did yet. I'm not sure I want you back in my house."

"Your house?" Max yelled. "That's not your house, that's Jenny's house and I'd fucking die before I let you claim it. You treated her like shit too, just like Tim." He almost spat on her with his last words.

"What do you just say?" Now, Nikki was angry.

"You heard me; you didn't give a damn about Jenny. You're nothing but a-"

His last word was cut off by the resounding sound of a solid _Smack_ against his check.

He looked at Nikki with amazement. She was standing up while he was still sitting down with tears forming in her eyes and a truly hurt look on her face.

"Don't you ever say that again," she said with all the strength she had. "And don't you ever call me a slut. You know I loved Jenny. You know it Max! You saw it with your own goddamned eyes and you know she loved me too! You're just upset because she never loved you back. Because you're a monster and don't have anybody else who cares about you. Well, fuck you, Max!"

She slammed her hands down on the table and got up close to Max's face. "And if I find out you had anything to do with Jenny's death, if you laid a finger on her..." she shook her head, trying to get her last few words out without breaking down, "I swear to God, Max, I will kill you myself."

She turned around to walk out the room, but stopped as she put her hand on the doorknob. She looked back at Max, who had tears in his eyes as well.

"And I'm not paying your bail."

TBC


	7. The Dancer

Monday April 9: Los Angeles Police Dpt. 6:37 p.m.

"Hey, what are you thinking?" McCutcheon asked her partner who was mindlessly rapping her hand on the desk.

"Nothing," Morales answered, not even looking at her. Her eyes were pointed in the general direction past McCutcheon's head, but she wasn't really seeing anything.

"You have to be thinking something."

Morales was starting to think that this was how everyday with this woman would be like: having her motives and habitual actions questioned for whatever reason.

"But, I'm not. I'm not thinking anything and before you ask, I'm not thinking _about _anything." Her eyes were still fixed, yet unfocused on that spot. "I'm just…"

"Being?" McCutcheon finished.

"I guess so."

Morales' headache was still in full effect and the day's events weren't helping.

Nikki had stormed out of the office after her conversation with Max. When Shane tried to ask her a question, she said that she was "far too traumatized and angry to be of any real help." Carmen had stood there in shock from the whole argument and had been forced to wait for the past few hours for the warrant.

_These people are seriously crazy._

And she couldn't help but wonder what kind of person Jenny Schecter was to end up like this. She was so loved, seriously _loved_, but she'd met her demise at the hands of someone she knew. Someone who was probably in love with her.

_But, love's a bitch._

Love had been what brought this woman together with those three people. Love had been what those two had felt for her and emanating from her and her boyfriend. Carmen bet you could have even saw in her now glazed over icy blue eyes when she was with each of them. And yet, now love was the motive and justification for murder; that sweet sticky mess that led to her demise.

So, who loved Jenny to death?

Behind Morales' and McCutcheon's desks, the door to Captain Kennard's office swung open and she stuck her head out.

"Hey, you two can head home. The warrant won't be in until tomorrow, anyway."

"Why?" McCutcheon asked.

"Busy day and it's a low priority."

Kennard turned around and went back into her office before Shane could even question why it was a low priority when she'd gone on all day about how it was the chief's main concern. Instead she shrugged decided it was one of things that made no sense and she wasn't supposed to question. She turned to Carmen.

"Hey, you gonna head home?"

Carmen was still looking in the same area with a spaced out look on her face. Shane moved around to get in her field of view. She took off her sunglasses and looked at Carmen's eyes, trying to see if she was actually seeing anything or she was lost in her head. Finally, Carmen's eyes blinked a few times and refocused, bringing Shane's eyes into view.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"Home. Are you going home now?" Shane didn't move from her position of staring at Carmen.

Carmen had gotten lost in a trance again, but this time it wasn't at the wall and her mouth did that auto pilot thing again. "Bomb," she muttered.

"What?"

Her eyes went back into focus and she stood up. "I think I know where Max got the explosives."

Monday April 9: Somewhere in East LA 7:04 p.m.

The unmarked car sat outside of a dingy-looking little hole in the wall of a restaurant. There was no sign on the door, nor anything that resembled evidence that people were invited to come in.

Morales took a deep breath and looked at her partner. "You know, you don't have to come in."

"But I should, shouldn't I?" Now, McCutcheon was confused. "I mean, is there something in there I shouldn't see?"

"No, it's not that. It's just…"

"What?" Now McCutcheon seriously wanted to know. Her curiosity was what got her into most problems in life.

"Never mind, let's just go in."

Morales silently got out of the car and McCutcheon followed her up to the door. It was the kind with the secret slot with a bouncer behind, checking out everybody who came to it.

"What do you want?" a gruff voice from behind the door called.

"To go to a place I've never been before," Morales answered automatically.

The door opened and the detectives stepped in. The man behind the door smiled and greeted them.

"Sugar! Girl where have you been?" He was a large black man with a tight black t-shirt showing off his muscles and a great white smile. He pulled Carmen into a hug.

"Nowhere, Sonny," Morales answered, hugging him back. "Just around."

"Come back and see me later," he said. "I've got something I want you to hear."

"Yeah, I will." Morales nodded and quickly moved down the narrow, angled down, darkened hallway with McCutcheon following on her heels.

"Sugar, huh?" McCutcheon laughed. "If can't call you Carm, can I call you Sugar?"

Despite her mood, Morales couldn't help but smile and McCutcheon could somehow tell even with her back turned to her in the dark.

"I'll think about it," Morales called back and suddenly came to a halt. McCutcheon bumped into her and saw they were standing at another door.

_What the hell is this place?_

Morales knocked on the door and opened before them.

"Welcome to Papi's," another bouncer said.

Inside smelled of faintly sweat, sex, perfume, and free inhibitions. There were scantily clad women serving other women with drinks. They were all flirting, laughing and having a good time. There was music, loud and pulsing music, yet slow and sensuous music that made your heart match the beat and start to sweat in the same slow, torturous, desirable way as everyone else. The lighting was dark with a blue tint and a thin layer of smoke was visible in the air. Only part of that smoke was from cigarettes, the other part was from the machine on the stage, blowing out fog around the dancer's feet, making it look like they were dancing on clouds and their clothes were dropping down from the heavens to grace mere mortals. They spun around with amazing ease and grace that one could not help but be hypnotized by. They were a little like angels themselves.

Carmen was able to pull herself out of the magic movements of their erotic flesh and intoxicating eyes in enough to spot the woman sitting in VIP lounge. She had bronze skin similar to her own and was resting on couch with a woman on each arm, both looking at her with intense sexual ferocity. Carmen tapped her partner, who was still a little taken with her surroundings.

"McCutcheon," she called.

"…"

"Shane!"

McCutcheon whipped around with a slightly startled, slightly embarrassed look on her face, though it was hard to tell with the hat and sunglasses.

Morales ignored the question of 'how the hell can she see' and decided to save it for later. "Hey, I'm going over there."

"Is that her?"

"Yeah, but you can stay here if you want."

"No, I'll go with you."

Instead of protesting, Morales turned and walked over to the lounge draped in dark purple sheets. The detectives were stopped at the front by a bodyguard until the woman in the center waved her hand, signifying it was okay to let them in.

"¿Qué pasa, chica?" she said. "Where've you been, sweetheart? You don't come see me no more, Carmen. I miss you."

"Yeah, sorry, Eva," Carmen said sarcastically.

"Hey, you know everyone calls me Papi."

Carmen rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Papi smirked and sat upright, removing the girls from her arms. "I remember a time when you called me 'Papi' too. _Loudly._"

Carmen hid the disgust she was feeling and pressed on. "We need to ask you a few questions."

"We?" Papi asked. "Hey, who's the skinny white girl?"

"This is my partner, Sh-"

"Partner?" Papi interrupted. "Girl, when'd you get all domesticated and shit?"

Shane finally stepped forward and flashed her badge.

Papi nodded. "That kind of partner." She stood up and looked Shane up and down. "We should talk in my office, then. Excuse me, ladies," she said to the girls still sitting on the couch. "I'll be back soon."

Monday April 9: The Office of Eva Torres 7:16 p.m.

"Please, sit down detectives," Papi offered them once they were inside. "How can I be of service to you?"

"What up with the personality transplant?" Shane asked.

"You'll have to forgive me Detective…"

"McCutcheon," Shane finished.

"You'll have to forgive me Dt. McCutcheon. That's just my 'club face' you could say. It's what they expect of me, but I take my business very seriously. Now, what can I do for the two of you?"

Carmen pulled out a picture of Max and set it down on the table. "Have you seen this person before?"

Papi picked it up and looked at, leaning back in her rolling chair. "What's this about?"

"You're not gonna be incriminating yourself, Eva," Carmen insisted. "Just tell us if he's been here."

Papi looked at the picture again and then at Carmen. "Yeah, he came in here a couple of weeks ago. I don't know how he found out about me, though."

"Great reputation?" Shane suggested.

Papi laughed. "Yeah, I guess. Anyway, he was about to get thrown out by a bouncer when I saw him. He started asking me all kinds of questions about my… other business."

"Dealing illegal explosives?" Shane asked.

"Hey, they're not illegal," Papi insisted. "Possession and selling explosives is not illegal as long as there is no intent for destruction. I'm well within my rights."

"Fine," Shane conceded.

"What did he want to know?" Carmen asked.

"He just wanted to know where he could kind his hands on something high quality, but small. Like for just one room."

"And you sold it to him?" Shane asked.

Papi went back to her 'club face.' "What do you think?"

Carmen looked at the clash of the egos and shook her head. Shane and Papi were staring each other down, Clint Eastwood style. Carmen was waiting for the tumbleweed to roll through the office and hear spaghetti western music right before they drew their guns.

"One more thing, Eva," Carmen said.

A glint appeared in Papi's eyes and turned to Carmen with a seductive smile. "Anything for you, beautiful."

Behind her sunglasses, Shane rolled her eyes. She was done talking to this woman.

"What was Max about to get thrown out for?" Carmen asked.

"Messing with one of the ladies."

"A customer?"

"No, a dancer. She was one of our more… special dancers. She had her own style and she looked alright, so I let her go on. She went by the name of Miss Yeshiva Girl on stage."

"What was her name offstage?"

"I don't know, I don't really ask. But I think I heard that guy call her Jamie or something."

"Jenny?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Carmen pulled out a picture of Jenny and set it on the table. "Was this her?"

"Yeah, that's definitely her. Why?"

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"Three or four nights ago. What's up?"

"She's dead," Carmen finally told her. "We're trying to find who did it."

"Shit, man. Was she blown up?" Papi asked, finally showing concern.

"No, it wasn't your fault, Eva. Calm down."

"Hey, just let me know if you need anything else. I can't believe she's dead. Fuck," she sighed.

"Don't tell me you loved her, too?" Shane asked.

Papi shook her head and let out a sort of sarcastic laugh. "No, but I can see how anybody else would."

Monday April 9: Somewhere on the streets of Los Angeles 7:51 p.m.

"So, how do you know Papi?" McCutcheon asked.

Morales was focused on the road and hadn't said anything since they'd left the club.

"Is it one of those dark past things?"

"No. Papi's just someone I knew I high school." And she left it at that.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Long day?"

"You were there."

"Yeah, I was."

The car came to a stop in the Department parking lot and Carmen quickly got out.

"See you tomorrow," Shane called as she watched her rapid escape.

Not only was this woman odd, she was moody. Never a good mix in Shane's experience. But on top of all that, she was mysterious too.

_This is not going to end well._

She needed to get her mind off Detective Morales and her perfect ass. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number.

"Hey, Al. Wanna meet me somewhere?"

Monday April 9: Morales Residence 8:27 p.m.

Carmen stumbled into her apartment, worn out from the day. She threw her keys on the kitchen counter and stuck her head in the refrigerator. She pulled out a beer for and dropped herself onto the couch. She turned the TV on, but left the volume down. People on TV rarely said anything worth the effort of speaking, let alone being heard.

Carmen pulled her hair out of the ponytail holder and let it drop down to her shoulders. She ran her finger through her wild mane and let out a great breath before picking the bottle up from off the coffee table. She took the cap off her beer and chugged it quickly, ignoring the spill onto her clothes. She didn't even like beer that much, but she needed a place to start.

Eventually she gave up on television and turned it off. She went back to the kitchen and pulled out a shot glass and the tequila she'd bought last weekend and brought it back to table in the living room. After a few, she slumped back onto the couch and sat there, staring at the ceiling, processing the day that had just passed. She'd been thrown out of the familiar terror of her recurring nightmare only to go to work and she'd be the first to tell you that she didn't work well sleep deprived. She'd had her comfortable solitary standing interrupted by a snake charmer of women who for some reason felt the need to know her. To top it all off, she was working on one of the most annoying cases of off all time: she said that she/he said that he killed his girlfriend. All she could say was, "Who gives a damn?" That's how she knew it was time to quit her job, when she felt nothing but complete and total apathy towards whether or not she solved the case.

She realized she'd been like this for a while. Just a little bit after Lara's death, in fact. She didn't sink into the depths of self-pity like some people would have. No, this was Carmen and she was far too strong to crawl in a hole and die or even wish for that. Instead she decided to focus on her job, but that didn't turn out well. That was another thing.

Things had a habit of not ending well for Carmen.

Her last good partner was one of those things, but she hated thinking about that more that she did Lara. Soon enough she found herself sick of death, which happened to be reason number three why she needed to quit. She smiled grimly to herself at how quickly they piled up when she sat down and thought about it.

She did that a lot. She smiled and laughed at things that weren't funny all the time. She smiled at the news, she laughed at politics and the cases she was working on. But she spent most of her time laughing at herself; laughing at how far she'd fallen.

And, damn, had she fallen.

She laughed at the pain and suffering of others, but especially herself. And she laughed good and hard at her lack of self-pity and emotion with the exception of anger.

Oh yes, she felt anger.

She felt anger very clearly. That was the one thing that she could depend on, the fact that she was angry. And misery. How could she have forgotten misery? Those were her best friends in life. Carmen, Anger, and Misery; the three amigos riding off into the sunset. And she was just fine with it, as long it wasn't self-pity. Because self-pity meant suicide, and she would only hate herself more if that happened. And the only thing she could afford less than self-pity was even more self-hate.

No, wait, she took that back.

What she really couldn't afford was to act like she had today. Like she could give a shit about whether or not her partner was bleeding; especially when it was such a superficial wound like a bleeding lip.

She couldn't afford to be goofy and smile and have her past come up without her permission like that. She couldn't afford to not be at the top of her game when it came to work, the only thing she had something resembling control over.

And she really couldn't afford to have a crush on her partner, no matter how much those green eyes made her dizzy with desire.

She took another shot of tequila, throwing her head back with full force. Once she felt the sting hit her throat, she slammed the glass down and put a hand on her forehead.

"Shit," she muttered.

TBC


	8. The Dreamer

"Hey, Shane. Uh… do you wanna listen to something really cool?"

I'm in some sort of sound booth like in a recording studio with one headphone attached to my ear. Not those little ones for an IPod, but the cool old school kind, like a DJ would wear.

_Love_

_Love_

_Love_

A woman's voice is echoing as I play this song.

"So I heard this mix at the Knitting Factory, last week," I say, checking the levels. "I mean, this is – this is exactly where I wanna be like… five years from now."

McCutcheon is next to me, sitting sideway on the panel.

She laughs. I love it when she laughs.

"I like a girl with ambitions," she tells me, half-joking.

"Oh, fuck you," I laugh, as the amazing drumbeat kicks in.

She laughs back.

"Okay, if you want."

I look over at her with a questioning look and she looks back me with a shrug.

She seriously means it.

I set down the headphones and bite my bottom lip as I move closer to her. I pull her by her shirt to bring her closer to me and we start kissing, almost to the beat of the music.

Our tongues dance around each other's mouth, joining in the rhythm surrounding us.

And it feels so good.

_Kiss_

_Kiss_

In seconds she's lifting me up onto the panel and I'm helping her out of her jacket. I laugh and moan in her mouth all in one sound. She smiles through the kissing and sets her glasses to the side. I pull her down and kiss her more furiously.

I can't get enough.

_Kiss_

_Kissing_

All I can feel is the bass from the speakers and Shane's hands working her way up my body as she pulls my shirt over my head. Once it's off she smiles again and we resume kissing.

Slower this time. We want to enjoy this.

We're both working on unbuttoning my denim skirt when she looks down and sees the tattoo around my waist.

"Where does this lead?" she asks.

"Oh, it was for my father," I answer. She starts spinning my around to see it go down my lower back. "I never met him, but supposedly he was some kind of Mayan medicine man."

She leans forward and starts kissing me on my shoulder. She whispers into my ear, in that sexy, low voice of hers.

"Then how come you never met him?"

"He died in a motorcycle crash before I was born."

She pauses and her lips linger on my skin. I love that feeling.

I slowly turn around and she smiles at me again before pushing the hair out of my face and kissing me again. She puts her hands up to my face before reaching down and lifting my back up onto the panel. She works her way down leaving warm kisses on my neck…

my chest…

and my stomach…

_F- F-F-Fucking_

Somewhere in the back of my head, I know that both of us should be working.

But she's rubbing her nose along my inner thighs, working from my left knee to the center, stopping just before, and starting on the right. This is some sort of cruel and unusual torture. I just imagine her breath puffing in and out and in and...

Fuck, what is this woman doing to me?

_F-F-F-Fucking_

"Shane." Even through the haze, I manage to say her name.

"Say it." She says the words slowly, painfully slowly, nuzzling right next to...

Oh, God.

Her hands were at the top of my panties, as if she's waiting for something before she pulls them down. "Say it."

Unable to think clearly, I repeat the last word she'd said, hoping it was whatever would make this damn tease finally reach my core. But, fuck, it doesn't matter because the things she's doing with her tongue magic. Before I know it, she's kneeling on the ground before and I'm slowly rocking my hips toward her and trying so hard to stifle the eruption within me.

And it finally comes out in one noise, one name to describe what I'm feeling.

"Shane!"

Tuesday April 10: Carmen's Apartment 7:39 a.m.

Dt. Carmen de la Pica Morales awoke with a start, clutching her breast with one name on her lips.

"Shane!" she screamed as she lurched forward from her pillow. Cold sweat had plastered her long dark hair to her face. She pushed it out the way with one hand and felt her pounding heart with other.

"Shit," she exhaled, drawing her knees up to her chin under the covers. She shook her head and repeated told herself over and over that it was only a dream.

"Solo un sueño… Solo un sueño…"

But she was angry. She was always angry, but this was a different kind. A sort of general frustration yet pinpointed at something.

Shane?

Maybe. If she hadn't flashed her eyes and that little devilish smile she wouldn't be having this fantasy about all the things she could possibly be doing to Carmen with her hands and all the things Carmen could feel with her tongue.

Was she mad at herself?

Maybe. It might quite possibly be that her dream – as real as it felt – was simply the result of all those shots last night. Maybe all the anger she'd felt was being shown in her subconscious as sexual frustration and finally fulfillment.

But how the hell do you fulfill anger?

And so finally, the last thing Carmen could have been mad at was herself just for wanting it. Maybe there wasn't some super amazing reason as to why she'd had the dream.

Maybe she just wanted Shane.

She shuddered at the thought as she took a shower.

It was impossible.

Not that weirdo.

Not that enchantress with the mystifying eyes.

But her mind couldn't help but imagine the so real feel of Shane's lips on her shoulders as the hot water cascaded down her back.

She let out a sort of whimper and groaned inwardly.

Today was not going to be an easy day.


	9. The Discreet

Tuesday April 10: Los Angeles Police Dpt. 8:47 a.m.

Dt. Morales sat at her desk, staring at the empty seat across from her, coffee in hand. She was starting to wonder where her partner was.

Not out of desire to see her, she assured herself repeatedly, but because she was late.

She was still a little disoriented from her dream, but was sure that's all it was.

_It's just a dream. _

_Seriously, that's all it is._

_Why did I think it was more?_

She sipped her coffee and leaned back in her seat, glancing around the office, looking at the officers and other detectives talking to each other. She turned her gaze down the hallway and saw two familiar figures walking in her general direction: a bubbly blonde and a dark, mysterious woman following behind her. Carmen watched Alice look back at Shane, say something, and point back down the hallway like she was giving her directions. After Shane had walked off, Alice looked across the room, saw Carmen, and promptly made her way over.

"Hey," Alice greeted, taking Shane's seat. "What's up?"

Carmen let out a deep breath in anticipation of whatever bullshit Alice was guaranteed to sling her way.

"What do you want, Alice?"

Alice pretended to look hurt. "Oh, Carmen," she said dramatically. "You hurt me so. Why would you think I'd want something from you?"

Carmen gave her the blank stare in response.

"You and those looks, Carmen. I swear, one day your face is gonna get stuck like that."

Carmen still didn't answer.

"Okay, okay, I just wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

"We're friends, aren't we? Friends just talk sometimes. You know, shoot the breeze."

"Keep talking like that, and I'll shoot you. Now what the hell so you want?"

Alice smirked a little and leaned over Shane's desk to get closer to Carmen.

"So, how was your first day with Shane?" she asked in a low voice, like she was telling Carmen a secret.

Carmen kept a guarded look on her face. "Fine. Why?"

"Oh c'mon, you can tell me."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Al. Get to the point." Carmen was still playing dumb; she knew very well what she was getting at.

"Okay, cut the shit, Morales. What did you think of Shane?"

"She's alright," Carmen answered before nonchalantly taking another sip.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's not what I meant. What did you _think _of Shane?" Alice made a point of raising her eyebrows on the word "think."

She only got another blank stare in response.

"Okay, fuck it," Alice said, standing up. She moved around to Carmen's desk and spun her chair around to face her. She leaned in close and spoke quietly. "You have the hots for Shane, don't you?"

"Al-" Carmen began.

"And save the bullshit, I can tell. I know everything. Like for example, I am one of very few people that know that your captain is fucking the chief."

Carmen choked on her coffee after that one. "What the f-"

"Don't worry about how I know," Alice interrupted again, "I'm just telling you, I know _everything._ Starting with your little crush on… Hey, Shane."

Carmen looked up and saw Shane standing at her desk with a curious look on the part of her face not hidden by her now trademark sunglasses and hat. Instead of the black Fedora, today's hat was white, matching the white blazer over her black shirt; behind which, Shane could almost feel her heart beating out of her chest as she looked at the low cut tank top under Dt. Morales' leather jacket.

But she kept her composure.

At least on the outside.

She kept her curiosity, too.

"Hey, Al," she answered, looking at her partner and the ADA with a seemingly dull confusion. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Alice said, standing up and starting to leave. "I'll see you later, Shane." She turned around and gave Carmen a squinty eyed look. "Morales."

"What was that all about?" Shane asked once Alice had finally vanished. "And why is your face getting red?"

Monday April 9: Schecter/ Stevens/ Sweeney Residence 9:39 a.m.

The warrant for the search of Max Sweeney's home came in early that morning, and, once Carmen had stormed off to the bathroom to regain her composure, they set out.

Detectives Morales and McCutcheon entered the house and headed to the backyard with a few uniformed officers behind them. They entered the studio and told the uniforms to look around the rest of the house. There was a TV, a bed, a dresser; it looked very much like a normal room except for the high tech computer and recording gear.

"What the hell was he doing back here?" Morales thought out loud.

"I don't know, but I think I know how he was making his money. This looks like Neo's house from the Matrix."

"Great nerd reference," Morales quipped.

"Hey, it could've been worse," McCutcheon told her. "I could've mentioned Star Trek."

"I guess," Morales sighed, squatting down to get a look a shelf covered in videos.

Her eyes scanned the spines of the tapes, glancing over the names written in permanent marker. She looked and glanced all around the shelf until one title caught her eye:

_Nikki/Jenny Love Confession_

"Hey, McCutcheon," she called. "You may want to take a look at this."

_____

The camera was at a high vantage point. The detectives assumed it was fairly high up, like on the hall. Most likely hidden. The video itself wasn't of necessarily high quality, but the people could be identified more than clearly, on sight and by voice.

They were in the kitchen. Jenny was sitting at the table in the kitchen by herself around 2 a.m. based on the time stamp in the corner of the recording. Nikki walked by and saw her sitting by herself with a pensive look on her face. She could already tell what was on her mind.

Nikki sat down with her and spoke quietly at first, but just loud enough for it to be picked up.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

Jenny looked up at her with tears in her eyes.

"I don't know," she answered, shaking her head. "I've never felt this way before. I-I've never felt this way about anyone, Nikki. I didn't know I could feel this way about anyone. Let alone, another girl."

Nikki seemed like she was ready to cry too, but she held it back and grabbed Jenny's hands from across the table and sweetly kissed her fingers.

"How do you feel?"

"I feel… like I'm in love with you. But it's more powerful… it's more amazing… it's more beautiful than anything I've ever felt for Tim or any other man," she said as the tears streaked down her face.

Nikki was crying now, too, but silently and smiling through the tears.

"But," Jenny continued, "I don't want to hurt him. He's been so good to me. He loves me so much." She stood up and moved away from Nikki and her clasping, comforting hands and moved to the other side of the kitchen by the counter.

"I can't hurt him," she finally said with her head lowered.

Nikki got up and slowly walked over to Jenny. She gingerly touched her chin and lifted it, forcing Jenny to look at her through teary eyes. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she spoke.

"Don't worry about him. Just… Just for a second don't think about Tim and how he feels. Ask yourself what do you want for you? Jenny, what do you want?"

Looking into Nikki's eye's, Jenny answered without hesitation.

"You. I love you."

"I love you, too," Nikki whispered before planting a gentle kiss on Jenny's lips. She moved a strand of errant hair out of her face. "And I'll do anything to protect you. I'd do anything for you. You know that, right?"

"Yes."

"So don't worry about Tim. Just live in this moment with me."

Jenny lifted her head and pulled Nikki into a kiss, wrapping her hands around her neck out of gratitude and love. They kissed each other through wet tears and bared emotions until their motions became feverish, reeking of desire. Their pace quickened as their hands moved over each other's bodies and they stumbled their way back down the hallway to a bedroom.

____

The detectives stood in the shed; silent after the tape had ended. McCutcheon moved her hands into her pockets while Morales just blinked repeatedly.

"These people are seriously driving me crazy," McCutcheon said.

Morales nodded. "Is it just me, or doesn't it look like the wrong person is dead?"

Before McCutcheon could answer, there was uniformed officer at the door.

"Detectives," he called. "We found something you may want to look at."

"We'll be there in a second," McCutcheon answered. "And could you get someone to check this place out?"

"Especially those videos over there," Morales added.

As the detectives moved throughout the house, Morales mentally noted how much easier it was to not focus on Shane, and the dream, and all the other goings-on in her head so long as she working. There was only one problem; she couldn't work forever, try as she might.

They stopped once they were led into the bathroom where someone from forensics – Gene, Carmen believed his name was - was busy examining a prescription pill bottle.

"Look at this," he said, holding it up.

"What exactly is it?" McCutcheon asked.

"Oxycodone," Gene answered, handing it to Morales, who took it in her already gloved hands. "It's a prescription painkiller for things like broken bones. Read the symptoms on the side."

"'May cause drowsiness'," Morales began. "'Alcohol may intensify this effect. Use care when operating a car or dangerous machinery'."

Gene nodded. "And down at the bottom?"

"'May cause dizziness,'" Shane read over Carmen's shoulder.

Carmen could feel the heat coming off her and unsubtly moved farther away from Shane.

Fortunately, Gene didn't notice anyway. He was too busy being proud of his discovery.

"That bottle," he said, "is prescribed to Nikki Stevens. And on the bottom of that bottle, if you will notice, has residue on it. White residue. Which I'm willing to bet is a few ground up pills that will match some of the content in Jennifer Schecter's stomach."

"Let me get this straight," McCutcheon said. "Nikki tried to kill Jenny?"

Gene shrugged. "That's what it looks like, if there's no one else's fingerprints on that bottle. I'll run the labs and see what I find."

He got up and moved out of the bathroom, pill bottle in hand, leaving the detectives alone but the door open.

Morales leaned back by the sink, standing on the opposite side of the room as her partner. She kept her head down a looked at the tiny white tiles as she spoke.

"This is so messed up."

"What?" McCutcheon asked, with her head lowered, trying to not stare at the falsely inviting valley below her partner's neck.

"Uh… the case?" Carmen said, wondering what else she could have thought she was talking about.

"Yeah, it is."


	10. Dedos and Demands

Tuesday April 10: Los Angeles Medical Examiner's Office 12:02 p.m.

"What did you do to deserve this?" Dt. McCutcheon asked of the unresponsive body on the table.

Jenny Schecter was lying, face up, with her eyes closed and her skin almost translucent with the paleness of death.

At her house, the police had found evidence against both her roommates. Her boyfriend – or ex-boyfriend as the case may be – was still M.I.A. So the question on Shane McCutcheon's mind was what was she doing with these people to deserve this?

Gabby, the assistant medical examiner, stood on the opposite side of the table from the detectives, holding up the medical report.

"What else did you need to know?" she asked. "Everything I found is in the report. I didn't leave anything out."

"I'm sure," McCutcheon murmured thoughtlessly, still staring at the corpse.

"What about what Feinberg found at her house, though?" Morales asked, filling in for her partner's absentmindedness. "Nikki Stevens' pill bottle. Did the tests on that come back yet?"

"Uh..." Gabby turned around and looked on the desk behind her. "Yeah, I guess it did."

She picked up a report and began to read it off.

"Umm… from the looks of it, the contents of the pill bottle did, in fact, match what we found in her stomach. It also matched the residue at the bottom of the container."

"What about the prints?" McCutcheon asked with her head still down.

"The fingerprints?" Gabby repeated, giving the report another once over. "There were two sets found. One belonging to who we assume to be Nikki Stevens, based off of things found in her room and the other set belonging to Jennifer Schecter, but…"

"But what?" Morales asked.

"The way the fingerprints were found in a way that suggests that Nikki was opening the bottle normally while it looks like Jenny's prints suggest she grinded the pills up but it's sort of smudged. They overlap a little too much, so it's kind of hard to tell actually, but both of their prints are definitely on that bottle."

Tuesday April 10: Los Angeles Police Dpt. 12:46 p.m.

"So, what do we do now?" McCutcheon muttered, theoretically to her partner and the ADA leaning on her desk, but in actuality to herself.

Shane was moping internally about the fact that she couldn't get Carmen out of mind. About the fact every time she looked her, a little smile grew across her face, even when Carmen was mad and especially when Carmen was mad at her for some reason. About the fact that it seemed like everything she did around her was wrong, apart from working. About the fact that it seemed like she would get nowhere, at best, with… whatever the hell was going on.

"She's right," Morales agreed, slinking back into her chair. "What are we supposed to do, question Max again? I don't see that getting us very far, even with his rapey videos."

ADA Pieszecki sat on part of Shane's desk, tossing a red, rubber stress ball up in the air. Watching it go up and down, and up and down, and…

"You have to do something with him," she said with her eyes transfixed on the crimson sphere. "Even with the assault charges, his bail and release are pending. You can't keep him here for those tapes because we have no way of knowing for sure that they were filmed without consent. Or if they're even real, for that matter."

"I'm pretty damn sure they're real, Alice," Morales snapped.

"Yeah, I know that, but I still can't technically prove it. At most you've got him here for another," she looked at her watch, "24 hours if you're lucky."

"And if we're not?" McCutcheon asked.

"He could be gone within the hour. The law is screwy that way," Pieszecki admitted. "What about that Nikki girl? Where is she?"

"No idea," McCutcheon answered. "All we know is she wasn't there when we searched the place."

"Well, you've at least got enough to bring her in for questioning," Alice told them as Carmen's desk phone began to ring. "Even if you can't call her a suspect just yet. Just tell her she's an important witness."

"We'll be sure do that," Carmen said, placing the phone back on the receiver. "Guess who patrol just picked up on the other side of town?"

Tuesday April 10: Los Angeles Police Dpt. Interrogation Room 1:32 p.m.

Nikki Stevens sat in the uncomfortable chair in the interrogation room fidgeting. She couldn't keep still and she was wearing the same clothes she had worn will she came to the station yesterday. She was crouched down a little. Her head was lowered, trying to avoid the fluorescent lights that suddenly seemed so bright. But she kept moving, like she was cold, only she wasn't. Her hands roamed up and down her own arms and she shook a little. She was unnerved, she was scared.

"W-what's going on?" she asked nervously, her head moving around randomly without her consent. "What am I doing here?"

"You were picked up by two officers for drug possession," one of them answered. Nikki recognized as the sexy cop with the smile from yesterday, Shane, if she remembered correctly.

"But that was just my painkillers," Nikki insisted, her head still down. "I-I have a prescription. I just got my wisdom teeth taken out."

"They don't give prescriptions for methamphetamine. At least not what you were carrying," the other one said. Nikki remembered her as the one with the evil scowl on her face.

"So what do you want?" Nikki asked. She was twitching; her dilated pupils were roaming around everything below the table because her head still hadn't made it upwards yet.

"We want to talk about Max," the other one told her.

"What-what about Max? Fuck Maw. Who needs Max? To Hell with Max. Who needs Max? What about Max?" she said with rapid fire precision. Now her speech as well as her eyes were darting around the room like bullets.

"Did you know about the cameras had around your house?" Shane asked.

"Cameras? No, there are no cameras. I didn't have a camera. Jenny didn't have one either. I was gonna buy her one for her birthday. Guess that's not happening now, huh?"

Nikki was talking a little too fast for the detectives to hear. It took them a while to answer her.

"So you didn't know that Max was filming you every time you entered that house?" the other one asked.

"No. No. No. There's no one at home. Jenny's gone. Max is gone." She stopped and giggled. "Yay. I'm not there. There's no one there. No one's watching. You can't see it if you're not there. Right? You can't see it. It's just not possible. You can't. You can't. He can't."

"Who can't see, Nikki?"

Nikki let out this wild, insane laughter before lowering her head back to its original place.

"Tim. Tim can't see. He can't see everything. He's not God. He's just Tim. He can't stop me. He can't stop Jenny. So he can't stop the both of us, right? Right? I know I'm right. I'm not scared of him. I'm not like Max."

"Max is afraid of Tim?"

"No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know. He wants Tim, I think. He wants to be Tim. He wants Jenny. He can't have Jenny. I have Jenny. He doesn't. She doesn't want him. She wants me. She loves me. She told me. She told me she'd never hurt me."

"But she told you she'd never hurt Tim, either," the other one pointed out.

Nikki finally raised her head and looked the room around her. The door on the opposite end from her. The radiator box by the window that Shane was sitting on. The lights. Those damn, annoying, buzzing lights that made her head hurt. That disgustingly angry woman looking at her, talking to her, asking her questions about _her _Jenny.

"How do you know that?" Nikki asked, agitated. "What-what-what? Are you watching me or something? Are you cops observing me all the time? You think I'm gonna slip up? Are you trying to put me away? Or are you just perverts? Do you guys have cameras in my bedroom too?"

"No," the other said, "but Max did."

"Fuck Max. Who need Max? Fuck Max."

"What about the painkillers? Why did Jenny take the painkillers?"

"Mmmm…. I gave 'em to her. She had a head – her head was hurting. Sunday night. We had dinner and she had a head hurt. Headache. I gave 'em to her. She asked."

"How many did you give her?"

"I…. gave her one. She asked for one and I gave it to her. But…" Nikki stopped And brought her head back down again. She moved her hands furiously up and down her arms, scratching over and over.

"But what, Nikki?" Shane asked. "What did you do?"

Nikki head rose up one last time and she smiled a sad, broken, distasteful smile.

"You know, you're really hot?" Nikki slurred.

"Answer the question," the other one shot, obviously pissed.

"Okay, fine." Nikki looked at her. "You know, you're kind of a bitch?"

The other one gave her an evil look.

"I put some in Jenny's food. I-I-I grinded it up and put in her food, okay? But-but not because I was trying to hurt her. No. No. I was trying to save her. I was trying to save Jenny. I have to save Jenny. I have to 'cause no one else will. Not even Jenny."

"Why were you trying to save her?" Shane asked.

"Tim. Tim and Max. Max. He told me was going to tell Tim that night. He knew Jenny was going out that night. She was going to go out to see Tim. Jenny told me _she_ was going to tell Tim that night. She said so. She told me 'I'm going to tell him so we can finally be together for real.' But Max. Max, Max, Max, Max," she repeated, shaking her head in disapproval.

"Max knew. Max knew about me and Jenny. Max knew and he was jealous. He was jealous of me and Jenny and he was gonna tell Tim. I only did it to try and stop Jenny from going out. I wanted to help her. I had to save her. Tim was gonna hurt her when he found out. I knew it. He's crazy. He's crazy. He did it, I bet. He killed her because he was mad."

"I see," Shane said.

"And where were you again Sunday night?" the other one asked.

"At work. I-I had a job as an extra. We didn't finish until almost 2 a.m. I told you this yesterday."

"I know. I was just checking."

"I'm high, not stupid."

Tuesday April 10: Observation Interrogation Room 3:09 p.m.

"Well?" Morales asked once she stepped in the room.

Captain Kennard and ADA Pieszecki were already behind the mirror, looking at the trembling body of Nikki Stevens.

"They all keep going back to Tim," Kennard said.

"But we can't do anything until he gets back Thursday," McCutcheon pointed out. "And even when he does get back, I highly doubt he'll be willing to admit to killing his girlfriend."

"Especially when you have no actual evidence linking him to the murder," Pieszecki added.

"Not to mention all we have is the testimonies of two people who should probably be mental patients, but are hopped up on drugs instead," Morales noted bitterly.

Kennard turned around and looked at all of them.

"I can't believe you three," she said. "You're just giving up on the case, now?"

"No," McCutcheon denied. "It's just that there's not that much to work with and it seems like a weak case."

"It is," Pieszecki agreed, nodding her head slowly. "If Tim Haspel actually did kill Schecter, I don't have a leg to stand on unless he just out and out confesses and I don't see that happening."

"So what are we supposed to do?" Kennard asked. "Just give up?"

Pieszecki shrugged.

"Your best guess right now is to see if you can get anything out of Max. I can't see anything good coming out of that conversation, but you've got him for a while longer now. You might as well see what you can do."

Tuesday April 10: Interrogation Room 3:32 p.m.

When they brought Max in, Carmen noticed he was looking even more haggard than he had yesterday. His already patchy beard was looking thinner and messy. There were dark circles around his eyes. Carmen bet he hadn't slept all night.

And yet, she sensed something else in him besides his evident pitiable demeanor and shabby look.

Some sense of determination. Like he was searching for something and he wouldn't give up until he found it.

"What do you want?" he asked, looking up at Carmen through his bowl cut bangs. "I already answered your questions."

"We have few more," McCutcheon said from behind Morales. "Like what were you doing with those cameras all over the house? Because Nikki apparently didn't know."

Max didn't answer at first; he just stared at both of them with creepy glare from his beady blue eyes. He let out an exasperated sigh and spoke.

"Jenny knew."

"From the beginning?" Morales asked.

"No, she found out a few weeks ago."

"And how'd she react?"

"She just told me not to put in the bathroom or her room."

"But Nikki's?"

"Her name never came up," he replied like he was bored. "Look, I'm going to tell you right now, you're both wasting your time. I didn't do anything. Why aren't you going after Tim?"

"We'll ask the questions if you don't mind," McCutcheon retorted.

"I'm just trying to do you two a favor, but if you want to just sit here and stare at me, fine. It's better than being a cell for no reason."

"I wouldn't say 'no reason'. You're still under arrest for other reasons," Morales pointed out.

"Okay, Detectives, let me ask you a question. Why do you think I haven't gotten an attorney yet?"

"Maybe we're just hoping you're too stupid to?" Morales guessed sarcastically.

"Or maybe it's because I don't need one. Maybe because I know as well as you do that you're just biding your time until you find Tim. So while we're wasting time, are there any other pointless questions you'd like to ask me?"

"Just a few," McCutcheon said with a smirk.

"Like, for example, why did you tell Tim about Nikki and Jenny?" Morales picked up.

Max didn't say a word. He just looked at them both, not with the contempt from a few minutes ago, but with a sense of dark fear and maybe realization.

Tuesday April 10: Los Angeles Police Dpt. 6:56 p.m.

Shane was back in her chair, slumped over, tired from the waste of a day she had spent. As odd as Max was, as seemingly guilty as Max was, as strange as his personality transplant was, he was right.

They were just wasting time. There was nothing else they could do. They were still stuck for a entire day after all they'd done so far.

As the day dragged on, Shane noticed that her feelings toward the case and whatever was happening between her and Carmen seemed to coincide.

She didn't know what the hell was going on, but she wanted something to happen soon or else she'd explode. But, whatever was happening with Carmen, she actually could do something about.

The question was, was it worth the risk?

She looked over at Carmen who was staring at her computer screen again, dutifully doing something, unlike Shane.

Finally Carmen looked up at Shane and frowned with a look on face that almost resembled worry.

"Long day?" she asked rhetorically.

"You were there," Shane replied, understanding fully what Carmen had meant when she said the exact same thing yesterday.

"Yeah, I was," Carmen sighed, copying Shane's line. "I hate cases like this."

"Me too."

As Shane stood up to stretch (and Carmen watched as her shirt rose above her navel), Tina came out of her office. She looked at them both with sheer boredom. Apparently, she didn't care much for the case either.

"You two can go home. No point in sticking around here, I suppose."

"What does the chief have to say?" Shane asked, and instantly Carmen got the disturbing image in her head of Captain Kennard between Chief Porter's legs thanks to Alice.

"I don't know, she hasn't said anything today."

Tina shrugged and went back into her office.

Shane turned and saw Carmen's face, slightly distraught and disgusted, and couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking.

"Do we need to visit another strip club?" Shane asked.

Carmen snapped out of it and looked up and Shane.

"No. Not what I was thinking of this time."

"It a shame, I could go for a lap dance."

Carmen looked her curiously with raised eyebrows before shaking her head and letting out a slight chuckle.

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Don't worry about it," Shane said, slightly embarrassed.

_Smooth, McCutcheon. Real smooth. _

As she stood there and watched Carmen gather her things, one of those sudden impulses that usually resulted in Shane getting in trouble came over her.

"Hey, do you wanna go get something to drink?" she blurted out.

Carmen stopped and looked at her.

_Shit, _they both thought.

TBC


	11. Here's to Hopelessness

Tuesday April 10: Bridge Tavern 7:39 p.m.

Detective Morales had reluctantly agreed to go for drinks with her partner.

Well, more correctly, since they were off duty, Carmen had decided, very much against her better judgment, to go get drinks with Shane. She made a point of sitting right at the bar, signifying that they were in no need of privacy. This was just a few friendly drinks between two friendly coworkers.

Unfortunately for Carmen, most people don't consider two people who have to stop themselves from having visions in their head of the person next to them naked to be just friendly coworkers.

But a girl can dream, right?

Not really.

The two of them sat at the bar in a sort of awkward silence after they had ordered and received their drinks. Carmen was nervously looking around the bar, staring at the pictures on the wall, the assorted bottles of liquor the bartender had to work with, the people hitting on one another and more often than not getting shot down.

_Yeah, that's how it goes._

Shane, on the other hand, was looking at the brown bottle of beer in front of her, occasionally glancing over at Carmen when she guessed she wasn't looking.

This was unnatural – for the both of them, but even more so – for Shane.

She didn't wear the cool façade that she normally did. Well, it wasn't just that she didn't, she actually couldn't. Nothing she could think of would possibly work.

If Carmen was as stupid as, say, Nikki for example, Shane wouldn't be having this problem where she couldn't even find words worth opening up her mouth to say. On that same note, if Carmen were as stupid as someone like Nikki, Shane wouldn't have this problem because she wouldn't give two shits about her or what she thought.

Shane took a sudden swig of her beer and made up her mind. She resolved to say something, meaningful or not. She had to say something or else she knew Carmen would leave.

"So, what did you do?"

Carmen turned around and looked at Shane, who had finally spoken. Which was good, because Carmen was never especially good at starting conversations, a piece of information which was painfully obvious now. But she'd been so spaced out and nervous she hadn't heard a word.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"What did you do?" Shane asked again. It was a fairly forward question, but she had to start somewhere.

The only problem was, Carmen didn't understand.

"What does that mean, 'what did I do?'"

"Don't worry about it," Shane sighed, resigned to defeat and ready to chalk up tonight as a major failure.

"No," Carmen insisted. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, you're my partner," Shane began to explain. "You must have done something to get stuck with me. I usually only get problem partners because whoever puts detectives together generally thinks it's a good idea to put two lost causes together."

"You're a lost cause?" Carmen laughed. "You've got to be kidding me. Yesterday Kennard was bitching to me about how great you are and how you have 'glorifying recommendations' from all the departments you've worked with."

Shane shrugged.

"They write glorifying comments about my skills and ability to get the job done, but if you read my file, they do anything but. I've been called everything from an 'abomination' to a 'harlot' to a simply put 'disgrace to the police force'. So I'm asking you, what kind of file do you have to end up with me?"

Carmen lowered her eyes and looked at the lone ice cube floating in the amber liquid of her cup. A sudden somberness ran over her as a rush of bad images and sadly familiar faces ran through her head.

"I really fucked up," she answered. She turned and looked over at Shane who was watching her with an intense, yet reserved curiosity.

"Do you know how many partners I've gone through in the past two years, alone?"

Shane silently shook her head.

"Seven, eight, maybe more, I lost count after a while. That's a lot of people. That's a lot of paperwork. But mostly, it's a pain in the ass to have to work with them then have to listen to Kennard's shit once they've left."

Shane watched her. She watched her furrowed brow as she obviously recalled something she wished she hadn't. She watched as Carmen bit her lip as nervous habit and her fingers flicked against each other near her glass. Shane watched her and wondered.

"What happened two years ago?"

Carmen let out a laugh. It wasn't the happy laugh of mockery from yesterday or even the tender laugh of jest from five minutes ago.

It was a grim, sardonic laugh, choked with misery.

"I had an actual partner two years ago. A real… friend. Dana Fairbanks. We got along, you know? We were in synch, solving cases in record time. It was like we…" Carmen trailed off, looking up at the ceiling fan above the bar. She had that feeling again, the one she always got when she thought about things like this.

Laura.

Dana.

It was all the same in the end. That's why she never let it get to her. That's why she stopped letting it bother her. That's why she never thought about it if she could help it.

"Like you shared a brain?" Shane guessed.

"Something like that," Carmen said, eyes transfixed on a bottle of Smirnoff. "But, this one day we got into an argument. I was stressed out from… things that were happening and we were working on this impossible case and we got into the stupidest argument during a stake out. In the middle of it, the perp showed.

"We got out, we chased him, everything was routine. And then, something happened. I got distracted and the next thing I knew, he'd pulled a gun out of nowhere and shot Dana. I called a bus, but it was useless. She was shot in the head. It was damn near point blank."

"It wasn't your fault," Shane insisted.

"Actually it was," Carmen said before knocking back the contents of her cup. She tasted the liquor and felt it slid down her throat as she swallowed. "We were in the middle of pursuing a suspect and lost my focus. If I'd have been paying attention, he wouldn't have had time the pull the gun on her."

To Shane, something didn't sound right, but this was obviously one of Carmen's demons. Shane sensed she had others as well, lying beneath the surface, just daring to be let loose.

"So, that's my sob story," Carmen finished with a tilt of her head and false sense of satisfaction before signaling to the bartender for another. "What's yours?"

"Oh, you're gonna turn it me like that?" Shane asked, half-joking, half-hoping the conversation could turn to something less heavy.

"Yup," Carmen said with a dim smile, the alcohol slowly but surely taking its effect.

Shane let out a deep breath and took another swig.

"What's my story?" she repeated.

_Might as well tell the truth._

"Well, my most recent altercation involved a girl by the name of Molly. She was a key witness to a murder and I… kinda…"

"You fucked her?"

Shane slowly looked around the room like she was searching for the right words to say. "Yeah," was apparently all she found.

"And before that, there was Paige, a nice housewife in Houston who was a suspect in her husband's murder. She sorta called me after we found the real culprit," Shane said before she realized what she was admitting.

She looked back at Carmen, expecting there to be some disgusted look on face. Instead she saw her smile a little and then begin to laugh.

Not that creepy ass laugh from when she was telling her story, but a real, goofy, 'I think that's funny as hell' laugh.

"So, you're a player, right?"

Shane was sort of caught off guard.

" No… I… don't think so…"

Carmen gave her a raised eyebrow look.

"Okay, maybe I am," Shane conceded. "But, I don't know, that feels like the wrong word for me."

"Would you prefer 'cad'?" Carmen asked, jokingly. "How about 'lady killer' or 'womanizer' or, and here's a nice one, 'lothario'?"

"Nah," Shane laughed. "Still not it."

Carmen popped a peanut in her mouth and snapped her fingers.

"How about, 'woman whose love knows no bounds'?"

"Takes too long to say."

They both laughed in agreement.

"But, you know, I'm not as bad as you make me out to be," Shane said, trying to make the conversation a little more serious.

She had to say it, she had to let her know. She just wasn't like that. Not always. She could be different. _They_ could be different.

"Every now and then, I end up just like everyone else. You know, hopeless." She looked Carmen in the eyes when she said it, making sure the message got through.

"You mean in love?" Carmen asked softly, like she knew the feeling.

"Yeah, same thing," Shane said with a faint smile on her lips and a glimmer in her eye.

Carmen looked down at her drink and felt a wave of heat rush over her.

"To hopelessness," she said, offering her drink in the air as a sign of cheers.

Shane nodded and clicked the bottom of her beer bottle against Carmen's glass.

"To hopelessness."

Shane took her sunglasses off and smiled a little as she watched Carmen's eyes scroll up and down her body, observing her.

"Okay," Carmen said finally with a nod of approval. "I'm starting to get it."

"Get what?"

"This," Carmen said, pointing to Shane. "This thing that is you. I'm starting to see why they like you so much."

"Who?"

"Every single female we've come across in the past two days."

"That 'they'," Shane nodded.

"Yeah, that 'they," Carmen repeated. "I guess you're kinda cute."

"Did you just say that?"

"Did I just say that?"

They asked the question at the same time.

Shane laughed as Carmen turned slightly red, and more once she realized Carmen had that same redness as this morning.

"Well, you're not so bad yourself," Shane told her.

"Shut up," Carmen laughed awkwardly. "That's just the alcohol talking."

"No," Shane said, moving closer to her so that their lips were nearly touching. "This is."

"Uhh… yeah, it is," Carmen chuckled nervously, leaning back a little, inching her way off the stool. She wasn't drunk enough yet. "I…… I gotta go to the bathroom."

She almost fell off the stool trying to make her escape.

_Yeah, hopeless_, Shane thought as she watched her walk away.

TBC


	12. Heat

Wednesday April 11: Los Angeles Police Dpt. 9:24 a.m.

"Hey, are you okay?" Morales asked of McCutcheon who'd been quietly sulking all morning. She knew what happened had partly been her own fault. She just couldn't do it.

McCutcheon was hunched over in her chair, looking at the ground while her partner spoke, not hearing a word. It was unseasonably hot that day, but McCutcheon was clinging to her blazer like a child would to a blanket.

Morales moved behind her and, despite a voice in the back of her head advising her strongly against it, she put her hand on her partner's shoulder tentatively. She rested her hand there for a second, feeling no reaction from her partner, and finally squeezed lightly.

"McCutcheon?" she called.

McCutcheon's head finally snapped up and she turned around looking at Morales.

Morales froze for a second, unsure of what to say.

_I'm sorry, maybe?_

"Are you okay?" Morales asked again.

"Yeah… yeah, I was just thinking…. a-about the case," McCutcheon lied. "I just got a little lost in thought, that's all."

"You sure?"

_No_

"I'm sure."

The nearby fan buzzed as it blew dry air back and forth, reached their faces, both of which were plastered with unreadable expressions.

Carmen tried to think of something, anything to say other than "I'm sorry," but Shane turned back around to her desk, hunched over again. Carmen was desperate to do anything to break the tension between them.

"Detectives," a foreign accent called from behind. They turned and saw the beautiful, black haired club owner from Monday morning. She was dressed in black as the though she were going to a funeral, complete with the puffy, red eyes and handkerchief between her fingers. Black shoes, black stockings, black hat, black gloves, black long sleeved dress, covered from head to toe in darkness despite the heat.

"I think I may be able to help you," she told them.

Wednesday April 11: Los Angeles Police Dpt. Interrogation Room 9:37 a.m.

"So, how long had you actually known Jennifer Schecter?" Morales asked.

"About two and a half years," Marina answered. "Maybe more."

"And what was your relationship with her?" McCutcheon asked.

"It was strictly friendly at first."

"What changed?"

"Jenny," Marina answered with a faint smile. "She changed. She approached me one day at The Planet." She tilted her head back and looked up a little, taking in the nostalgia.

Morales was standing by door, arms folded, looking at the foreign woman who'd appeared out of nowhere, temporarily answering her prayers. Every now and then, her eyes would wander over by the window to McCutcheon who was sitting on the old, broken radiator. Her back was partly turned to Morales, ignoring her at the moment. Trying to forget she existed, no doubt.

Defeated, Morales turned her attention back to Ms. Ferrer, who was regaling them with the tale of Jenny.

"It was late one night, around closing time. I was getting ready to lock up, when she came from behind me and asked a question." Marina paused and laughed a little. "She asked me what it was like to kiss another woman. She said that since she was a writer she needed to know about all kinds of life. All the ways you could live it and feel it. Like it was some life experience she just needed to understand. So she asked me to describe it to her and I told her that I had no words for it. And so she asked me to show her. I did. We went on from there for several months, almost a year I believe."

"And during this time," Morales began, trying to wrap her head around the story (anything was better than focusing on her own life), "was Jenny seeing Tim at all?"

"The entire time," Marina admitted, almost proudly. "Jenny had been seeing Tim since before we met."

"And you didn't see anything wrong with this?" Morales couldn't help but ask.

"No," she answered simply. "Why would I?"

"No reason, I guess," Morales said with a shrug.

McCutcheon cleared her throat and inserted herself into the conversation.

"Ms. Ferrer, what do you know about Nikki or Max or Tim or anybody else who would have wanted to hurt Jenny?"

Marina leaned back a little. She crossed her legs and smoothed a wrinkle out of her skirt.

"Look," she said, "Jenny Schecter was a complicated woman. She was a lover, most certainly, but she was also a monster. She had a way of getting lost… In herself, in her writing, in others. She was simply a lost soul and if you loved her you most likely got lost too. You were devoured in her darkness.

"I could see that, and maybe even Jenny could see that, but the others… no. They were far too dense."

"'Dense'?" McCutcheon repeated.

"Yes, dense. Thick. Simple-minded. Plain. To put it simply, Jenny dated stupid people. You've met Max, haven't you? Sweet boy. Confused, but very, very sweet. But he's far too stupid to see how Jenny uses him so."

"How exactly did she use him?" Morales inquired.

"The usual errands like getting food and dry cleaning for her. He often stopped by at random times during the day to pick up something for Jenny. And I don't think he minded at first. He seemed perfectly content to obey her very little whim until she started asking him to cover her and Nikki's little sex-capades."

"And what about Nikki?"

Marina sighed, shaking her head in disapproval.

"As far as Nikki is concerned, Jenny is God. She is the end-all be-all, the alpha and omega, the only truth. And I'm sure Jenny told her that she was her first female encounter and how she'd never felt like that before and I'm also sure Nikki believed her. To be perfectly honest, I'm not even sure if _I _was her first for that matter. But she's so sick; they all are, but her especially. You've met her, I'm sure. So self-confident, so obnoxious, so ridiculous in thinking that she can have anything she wants. And I'm sure you'd like to think it's all a front. That's it's some mask she puts on to hide her insecurities, but it's not. It's almost like she and Jenny were made for each other.

"And Tim..." She had to stop completely after saying his name. She was pushing back tears and laughter and anguished yells to say all this, but it had to be said.

"Tim was the biggest idiot of all. He followed Jenny across the country to be with her. And I don't even know why she wasted her time with him. He was a dim-witted, brutish oaf. He was violent and he was jealous, but he loved that girl with all his heart. It was actually quite funny – in a sad, tragic way – how he would always jump at any man who gave Jenny a second glance, but he never thought anything of her 'close friendships' with other women. What the hell did he think she was doing in West Hollywood all the time?"

"So, Tim never found out about Jenny cheating on him?" Morales asked.

"No, not that I-" Marina stopped suddenly.

"What?" the detectives asked in unison.

"He did find out. He knew about Nikki. Someone told him."

"Who?"

"I don't know who, but somebody had to have told him because he came into my club Sunday night loud and angry, looking for Jenny. I told him to take it outside or he'd have to be removed."

"And you just now remembered this?" McCutcheon asked.

"Look," Marina snapped. "I came down here to help you. I came here because this whole story, 'The Life of Jenny Schecter' is all centered on a bunch of lies. I'm trying to do you a favor and tell you truth as best as I know it because the others will be doing nothing but lying if they haven't already."

The detectives exchanged quick glances – quick, nervous, out of habit of catching each other's eye when something was suspicious glances. Not kind, friendly glances, but looks of questioning, which quickly turned into looks of recollection and slight terror. Morales let out a deep breath and stepped off the wall she was leaning on, observing Ms. Ferrer.

"Why would they be lying?" she asked, glad to have an excuse not to look at Shane.

"Because they've been around her too long. Because they actually believe their lies to be true. And because, more than anything, they don't want to believe that they had anything to do with Jenny's death. And even if they did, I don't blame them. I pity them for falling into such a dark void."

McCutcheon turned her head and looked at the woman sideways.

"So, what reason is there to believe that you're not lying?"

Marina laughed again; really she was scoffing with enthusiasm.

"Well, when you put it that way, Detective…" she paused and offered a lovely smile to the both of them, "there really is none. But unless you have any better offers, I'd advise you to at least hear what else I have to say."

Marina watched them exchange glances again before motioning for her to continue talking.

"That night, Tim stormed in and I told him to go outside. He said he was looking for Jenny but I told him he wasn't there – and she wasn't," she made sure to add. "She hadn't arrived yet. Tim went out back into the alley and shortly after I saw Jenny come in with Max. I told her that Tim was looking for her and she should probably avoid him. The last I saw of her, she ducked into the bathroom to avoid him."

McCutcheon pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

"Is that all?"

"No, Max stayed at the bar most of the time, looking like a sad puppy. He has those pitiful, droopy eyes, you know? He was looking around for her mostly until I told him that he should probably head home. He told me he was going to look around for Jenny and then leave. The last I saw of him, he was headed out the back way.

"Look, detectives, I know you may not believe everything I've told you – or if you believe me at all – but I thought I might be able to help you. You can take what I've said or not, but this is probably the only sane advice you'll get in solving this murder. I don't necessarily care if you find out who did it, nor do I care if you suspect it was me. That being said, I'll be going now if you don't need me."

Marina stood up and prepared to make her exit. As she placed her hand on the doorknob, she slowly turned her head to look back at the two women staring at her.

"Detective Morales," she said, the "s" on the end sounding like a crisp hiss. "Did you know that the bathrooms at The Planet are unisex?"

Wednesday April 11: Observation Interrogation Room 10: 41 a.m.

"Why do I always get the weird cases?" ADA Pieszecki asked as Detectives Morales and McCutcheon entered the room.

"You?" Morales asked. "You're not the one who has to interview them and suffer through the crazy ass statements."

"But I have get whoever you find get put behind bars, which is really a pain in the ass."

"Then why are you a lawyer?" Morales asked.

Pieszecki shrugged.

"It's something to do. Anyway, it looks like we're still in the same boat. All signs point to Tim."

"Yeah," Morales agreed. "This case is annoying, but at least it's fairly basic."

"Basic except for your main suspect is missing. Right, Shane? Shane?" Alice repeated, noticing her friend hadn't said a word. Instead she was leaning up against the wall on the opposite side of the room, brooding. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Shane muttered.

Alice turned her gaze to Carmen who was intentionally turned away from Shane's direction.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?" Alice asked.

Before either one of them could come up with a good lie, there was a knock at the door. Officer Williams shyly poked her head in.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we just got a call from the University. Haspel's team lost and is heading back early. They'll be here around noon."

"Thanks," Alice said with a sweet smile, filling in for the sudden silence of the detectives. "You gonna get on that?" she asked once Williams had left.

"Um.. yeah," Carmen said heading for the door with her eyes down, trying to avoid Shane.

Shane moved quietly for the door following Carmen with her gaze averted downwards.

"Hold it," Alice commanded once Carmen had left. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Shane muttered, staring at the ground.

"Right, Shane, 'cause that's totally believable. Are you going tell me what's wrong or do I have to drag the two of you into the interrogation room and do my own interview?"

Shane let out a deep breath before closing the door and walking over to Alice.

"I got shot down," she said under her breath, still unable to look at her friend.

"What? Speak up."

"I got shot down, Alice!" Shane finally admitted aloud. It was the first time she'd said, it was finally a reality and reality sucked. "I made a move and I got shot down."

Alice merely looked at her and blinked.

"Are you gonna say something?" Shane asked angrily.

"Well, it had to happen sometime, right?" Alice said calmly. "I mean, you can't just get every girl who comes your way."

"I guess so."

"So why the hell are you moping?" Alice asked, placing a hand on Shane's shoulder. "Is your libido so great that you can't go without sex for one night?"

"That's not it, Al." Shane said, shrugging off the hand. "It's…"

"It's what?"

"It's complicated, okay?"

Alice took a good look at Shane and finally shook her head.

"Oh god, Shane. You… actually?"

"Yeah," Shane raised her head and nodded solemnly.

"Oh shit, Shane."

"Yeah."

"Shit."

"Don't you have anything else to say?"

"Aww," Alice sighed. "Little Shaney's growing up. She has adult feelings."

"Fuck you," Shane said, turning to leave.

"Okay, wait, wait. I'm sorry. I guess I just wasn't expecting that."

"Yeah, well how do you think I feel?"

"Well, screwed, for one. You just had to fall for the hardass, didn't you?"

"What can I say?" Shane shrugged. "I guess I like a challenge."

"Well, you've damn sure got one," Alice laughed. "Wow, Shane. All I can really say is, good luck."

"Something tells me I'll need it. I'm starting to wonder if it's even worth all the trouble."

"I might be," Alice shrugged. "But that's the point. You're not supposed to know. You're supposed to be a little scared."

"I guess so. Hey, do you know what happened to her? Like, what made her like that?"

Alice stopped joking and suddenly went rigid.

"Why do you think something happened to her?"

Shane sensed her friend's abrupt uneasiness.

"Well, she started to tell me something last night when we were getting drinks, but I don't think it was the full story."

"That's not my story to tell," Alice said, shaking her head.

"I just want to know why she acts like she hates people."

"Look, if you want to know, you need to get your answer from her, not that I see that happening. Maybe it's just best if you leave it alone. Maybe you should just leave her alone."

"What?" Shane said astonished. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"N-nothing. You should get going," Alice said quickly changing the subject. "You need to go pick up Haspel."

"But you just said-"

But Shane was speaking to thin air. Alice had already gone out the door and shut it behind her. Shane caught her reflection in the glass and shook her head in disbelief.

"Fucking hopeless."

Wednesday April 11: California University 11:57 a.m.

McCutcheon and Morales were sitting in their unmarked car with the air conditioning on high.

McCutcheon had her head down and was staring at feet. In deep thought, no doubt as Morales believed until she finally spoke.

"What did Ferrer say?" McCutcheon asked out of nowhere.

Morales was caught off guard.

"Umm, she said the same thing as everyone else. Tim came in mad, ready to kill-"

"No," McCutcheon cut her off. "That's the problem right there. Nikki said Max threatened to tell Tim _that night, _but Ferrer said he came in mad and Kit said Jenny was crying like Tim had broken up with her. Something doesn't add up."

"So either someone is lying, or somebody else told Tim before Max got the chance to?"

McCutcheon finally turned to her and nodded.

Morales was just glad that she had looked at her again.

"Look," she began, "I am really sorry about last night. I just…"

"Don't worry about it. It was a bad call on my part."

Before Morales could begin to protest, the bus carrying the swim team pulled into the parking lot and McCutcheon got out.

"Dammit," Morales muttered following her.

Up ahead, the coach bus was being unloaded and the young girls were stepping off looking depressed because they had lost and run-down because of the heat.

Finally, two men stepped off as the detectives approached. The first a roundish black man with a comforting smile on his face, and the second, a well-built white male in his mid- to late- twenties carrying a duffel bag with a pissed off look on his face.

He was on his phone, talking to someone.

"Hey, Mark, are you here yet?"

"Tim Haspel," McCutcheon called, holding up her badge. "We need to talk to you."

Tim turned his head and saw them coming closer. He threw his duffel bag towards them and ran off into the university gym.

_Why do they always run?_

They took off, going around the bag and following Tim through the doors, past the weight lifting area, down the stairs, past the pool into the empty men's locker room and finally into the sauna. Tim stopped when he came to the wall. He slowly turned around and looked at the two of them wild-eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"We just want to talk to you," McCutcheon lied, holding up her Glock 22.

"I have nothing to say," Tim responded, reaching his hand behind his back.

"Hey!" Morales called. "Hands were we can see them."

Abruptly, the door behind them slammed shut. The instant the detectives whipped their heads around to look at the source of the noise, Tim opened a second door behind him and slipped out.

The detectives each took to a door and tried to ram the doors open, but they wouldn't budge. They'd both been locked and quickly barricaded.

"We're locked in," McCutcheon said finally, sliding down to ground in defeat.

Today was certainly not her day.

Morales pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number.

"Hello?" the voice on the other end of the line answered.

"Williams, I need a favor," Morales answered quickly. "And I'd prefer it if you didn't tell anyone about it."

"Why?" Williams asked with a sudden interest.

"We're sort of trapped."

"Trapped?" Tasha repeated.

"Yes, trapped. In a steam room, in a men's locker room, at the university."

"Go on."

"Tasha!"

"Hey, we're swamped over here. They've got us officers out on longer patrol because of the heat and…"

Tasha's voice was cut off by the sound of rumbling, both over the phone and in the sauna. The lights in the sauna flickered on and off wildly and the items that were already up against both doors were now packed even tighter with extra things from outside jammed against the door. Morales lost her footing and fell onto a bench on a bench one side of the hot box.

"Oh, shit," Tasha said on the other line.

"So, you felt it too?" Carmen asked, getting her phone back up to her ear.

"Yeah, and now Kennard is going crazy. I don't know if I can get over there."

"C'mon, I'm begging you."

"I don't know, Morales."

"Get us out of here and I'll get you a date with the ADA."

"…"

"Tasha?"

"Deal," she agreed and the line went dead.

"Williams likes Alice?" McCutcheon asked as Morales put away her phone.

"Yeah. Apparently, she doesn't know _everything_."

From her position on the bench, Carmen's eyes wandered over to Shane. Her head was bent down, she was seated on the ground, and her legs were outstretched on her bent up arms. She looked worn out.

"Well, great," Morales sighed, standing back up. "There's been an earthquake and we're trapped in a steam room."

"A steam room that's controlled from the outside," McCutcheon added tiredly, slowly rolling her head along her neck until it was facing upwards. "A steam room that's apparently turned on high. Damn, it's hot."

Wednesday April 11: University of California Men's Steam Room 1:02 p.m.

"Don't you think it's odd that nobody has come down here?" Carmen wondered aloud.

She had taken off her leather jacket, showing off one of her button up tank tops, and was sitting on a bench with her back up against the wall with beads of sweat dripping down on either side of her face.

"Maybe because nobody actually uses this stupid gym?" Shane suggested.

She was sitting on the opposite side of the same bench.

She'd moved from the floor when Carmen had pointed out how filthy it probably was. Her hat was still on the floor next to where she'd originally tried to get the door open. Her blazer was on the ground next to her and the top two buttons on her shirt were undone. She'd rolled up her sleeves, loosened her tie, and was lazily looking at the ceiling through her sunglasses.

"I really am sorry about yesterday," Carmen said.

"I told you not to worry about it," Shane sighed, wiping the perspiration off her forehead. "It was my fault."

"No, it wasn't. I sort of led you on and I'm really sorry about that."

"It's okay," Shane said, really not wanting to talk about it.

"But it's not for the reason that you think."

Shane slowly lowered her view from the ceiling down to Carmen's face, glistened with sweat, exhausted from the heat, but sincerely sorry and possibly sad.

Shane raised eyebrows signaling her confusion and interest.

"It's not that I didn't want to," Carmen said, not looking at Shane. "It's more like I was afraid to."

"Why?" Shane asked, sitting up normally. She leaned forward and completely forgot about the detached attitude she was supposed to have. "It is me you're scared of?"

"No!" Carmen quickly assured, launching herself forward on the bench so they were closer. "It-it's not you. It's me that I'm afraid of."

"But why?" Shane asked, leaning forward even more, until they were almost touching. She watched the sweat slowly slip from Carmen's chin downwards.

Instead of answering, Carmen raised her hand and slowly brought it Shane's face. Her fingers lightly brushed her cheek before she angled her head and closed her eyes. Slowly, she brought her lips to Shane's. They both felt the wave of heat rush over them and not even half of it was from the steam.

Unexpectedly, Carmen pulled back and opened her eyes.

"I-I'm sorry," she tried to say.

Shane wasn't hearing it. She moved her hand behind Carmen's head and pulled her back into the kiss. Before she knew it, Carmen was kissing her back with full force.

Her fingers going through Shane's hair. Shane's tongue finally making its entrance to her mouth and then…

"Morales! McCutcheon!" a voice called. Someone was banging against the door. "Are you in there?"

Carmen instantly pulled back, flushed, breath uneven.

Shane had to regain her composure quickly as the front door to sauna was being broken open.

"Hey, are you two okay?" Williams asked, stepping in. "Damn, it's hot," she said fanning herself as McCutcheon rushed past her, hat and blazer in hand.

"What's wrong with her?" she asked, pointing back.

Williams looked up and saw Morales looking slightly distraught while picking up her coat.

"And what's wrong with you?"

TBC


	13. Then and Now

Sunday April 8: Schecter/ Stevens/ Sweeney Residence 5:43 p.m.

Nikki and Jenny were relaxing in bed, basking in the afterglow of yet another glorious orgasm. The sheets of pristine white were barely covering them as they lay facing each other. The bright light of the afternoon sun peaked in through the windows, gently caressing their naked skin.

Nikki looked over at Jenny, full of love in her eyes. She smiled, sweetly, and pecked Jenny on the lips.

Jenny smiled back, bringing her hand up to Nikki's face, letting her fingers lightly dance across her soft cheeks.

"I love you," Nikki said, reaching for Jenny's hand. It wasn't the first time she'd said it. She'd said to her before and she'd say it again and again until the ends of the earth.

"I know," Jenny responded, kissing her back.

But just like before, Jenny didn't say it back. She hadn't said in weeks, not since that first time. And even then, it was like and admittance or confession of some unknown fact, like she couldn't believe it herself. But to Nikki, it didn't matter. All that mattered was she did.

She did love her, and she'd say it in her own time.

"You're so beautiful," Nikki told her, bringing Jenny's hand down to her mouth, where she would grace it with even more kisses.

Jenny reached her hand down to Nikki's waist and pulled her closer. She moved her mouth up to Nikki's ear and spoke softly.

"You're so fucking hot."

That was another thing about Jenny that confused Nikki. She was supposed to be a writer, and yet she did not posses a way with words - vocally, anyway. Certainly, she could speak. She could tell you anything she wanted and make you believe it. That was part of her power; part of the reason Nikki loved her so much. But when it got down to it, when Jenny said how she really felt, that was it. Whether she was mad at you or in love with you, she generally spoke without finesse.

In plain language, even vulgar at times. It was purely and simply her emotions and thoughts running straight from her brain to her mouth. No filter, no sugar-coating for anyone else's comfort, but the truth.

That's why Nikki loved her, because she told the truth.

And Nikki giggled when she called her 'fucking hot' and did dirty, decadent things to her with purple strap-on dildos in the bedroom. In fact, she enjoyed every second of it and even did the same things to her. It was just that every now and then, in moments like these when sun reflected off Jenny's pale skin and it hit her in the eyes with the blinding realization that love _was_ real and was, in fact, a good thing, she sometimes wished that there was some sort of real tenderness between the two of them instead of the hard, passionate fucking she normally received.

But it really didn't matter. None of it, she convinced herself, really mattered. Not so long as she had Jenny, standing beside her, holding her hand, ready to face the world together.

But she didn't.

And Nikki came to this terrible realization, yet again, while Jenny was busily sucking on her neck, threatening to leave a large sign that she been there.

"Jen-" Nikki struggled to say, but it was hard to resist her. "Jenny?"

Jenny stopped and slowly looked at Nikki's face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, lying back down to face Nikki.

The look in Nikki's eyes said it all. Jenny knew what she was getting at. Of course it was coming up. It wouldn't be a regular day if it didn't.

"Are you going to tell him?" Nikki asked, averting her eyes away from Jenny's, as though she were ashamed to ask the question. A question, that in reality, she shouldn't have had to.

But Jenny smiled her sweet, charming smile and kissed Nikki.

"Of course," she said.

"But when?" Nikki was scared to vocalize.

Jenny sat herself up and bent down over Nikki. She cupped her face in her hands and made Nikki look her dead in the eye.

"Today. I'm going to tell Tim today. Then, this'll be over with. Okay?"

Nikki was so happy, she could've burst right there. Instead she wrapped her arms around Jenny and pulled back down.

After another hour or so of sex in celebration of breaking up with Tim, Nikki decided to do something nice for Jenny. Something she wasn't sure if she had ever done, but she wanted to try.

She was going to cook dinner for Jenny.

It couldn't possibly be that hard, or so she thought as she slipped out from under the covers, away from her sleeping beauty.

Wednesday April 11: California University 1:34 p.m.

After receiving an odd stare from Detective Morales, Officer Williams led the way outside.

McCutcheon had stood by the door and waited for her partner to come out. She gave her a shy smile and followed Williams. Morales hadn't said a word. After seeing the smile, she made a point of acting like she hadn't.

"So, what do you do now?" Williams asked once they were by the detective's unmarked vehicle.

The sun was still beating down on them. It was still unbearably hot. Carmen suddenly wished she had sunglasses like Shane.

She pulled out her cell phone. "Tim was on the phone with someone named Mark. Maybe we should find out who Mark is."

"How?" Williams and McCutcheon both asked.

"We call Ferrer," Morales answered. Her back was turned to Shane as she dialed, but she could feel the questioning look on her back.

"She slipped me her number on her way out," Morales explained, waiting for the phone to pick up.

"Hello?" a voice on the other end answered.

"Hi, Ms. Ferrer," Carmen greeted. "This is-"

"I know who you are Detective Morales," Marina interrupted in her dark accent. "I wasn't expecting you to call so soon, though."

She was clearly flirting in her own alpha-female enchantress kind of way. Carmen suddenly felt ashamed for some reason.

"We need your help in locating Tim Haspel," Morales informed her, ignoring the obvious seductive tone in Marina's voice. "Do you know of him interacting with anyone by the name of 'Mark'?"

"Is that all?"

"Yes, and it would be greatly appreciated."

Marina sighed and rolled her eyes, somewhere on the other side of the city.

"Fine."

Sunday April 8: Schecter/ Stevens/ Sweeney Residence 7:27 p.m.

Jennifer Schecter sat on the edge of the tub. She had a massive headache as she tended to get from time to time. She looked down at the tiny white tiles between her naked feet. There were too many of them to count, obviously, but sometimes she came in here just to look at them and she if she could.

Some people counted ceiling tiles. Jenny counted the ones on the floor.

She stood up unhurriedly and moved to the medicine cabinet. Before she opened the cabinet door, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Her eyes were dark, darker than she wanted them to be, so she planned to but in her colored contacts later. Her hair was sporting the 'just fucked' look, something else she'd need to fix before she left.

Before she left to go meet Tim.

Before she left to go _tell _Tim.

Dammit.

Why had she made such a stupid promise to Nikki? Why had Nikki so willingly believed it? The answer was simple and Jenny knew it.

Nikki was fairly simple.

But she was a sweetheart and after living with her for a while, she'd actually grown on Jenny. All her little quirks and dreams were something that Jenny admired about her. That fact that she would go from audition to audition, getting rejection after rejection, and still have a smile on her face at the end of the day. It was like her fears didn't matter as long as there was some goal worth at the end of the line. It was beyond being determined. It was the ability to follow your dreams blindly and never mind the inevitable obstacles that seem to never stop coming at you.

Some might people call that stupidity, and maybe they were right, but Jenny just called it Nikki.

"Fuck," Jenny sighed, splashing water on her face. This girl would be the end of her, she could tell. Every time she hurt her Jenny was suddenly filled with remorse and every time she smiled Jenny couldn't help but do the same.

Her love for this girl would be the end of her.

She shook her head at the possibility of her loving somebody and was immediately reminded of why she had come into the bathroom to begin with.

Holding her head, she opened the medicine cabinet and looked around. They were out of regular ibuprofen and her head was killing. She glanced around, hoping to find something else.

Her eyes locked on the painkillers Nikki had gotten a little while ago when her wisdom teeth were pulled out. She didn't need them anymore. Now, they'd just be gathering dust in the cabinet until someone cleaned it out, which was likely to be never.

Without another thought, Jenny reached for the pill bottle and popped one in her. She planned to grab another on her way out that night. Something told her she'd need it.


	14. Sentir

Wednesday April 11: Somewhere on the Streets of Los Angeles 2:01 p.m.

Have you ever had that feeling?

When you're in the moment that you don't want to end, when everything in the world will be alright as long as what you're doing doesn't stop? When you know that time, in fact, _has _slowed down just for you, just so you can keep feeling what you're feeling for a little while longer? When every part of your body is screaming to you 'Yes! This is right. This is what you should be doing'? When every trace of doubt you had a just a second ago can be removed by just a wave of the hand or a touch on the lips?

And promptly after that, have you ever had the feeling that your body was wrong?

Or worse yet, that your body in telling you to go for it, to dive head first into that pool that's so far down, to jump off the cliff without a bungee cord, to go ahead and face your worst fears because this time nothing bad will happen, was actually correct and it's somebody else's sense and sensibility or possible lack thereof that's holding you back from receiving that first feeling again?

Have you ever had the feeling that you just took two steps on the best direction of your life, only to feel like you've been punched in the gut by a sumo wrestler and thrown back a mile?

If not, you are very lucky. And, if not, you have no idea how Detective Shane McCutcheon felt as she sat in the passenger's seat of the unmarked car with her partner.

And while we're on the subject of feelings, have you ever had the feeling like you wanted to punch someone's face in for ruining the most perfect moment of your life so far? That feeling, one that's a bit more familiar to most people with blind rage, was another that consumed Shane at the moment and it was probably for the best that Officer Williams wasn't riding along with them.

It was painfully quiet except for the air conditioner up on full blast. Carmen was doing her best not to look at Shane, and Shane, for her part, was making it easier on her by looking out the window.

She watched the passing scenery of trees, buildings, people on the street, and did her best to get Carmen off her mind for the moment, something that was pretty near impossible with her sitting less than three feet away from her.

She was starting to wonder if Alice was possibly right. Maybe she was better off just leaving it alone. Maybe Carmen's apparent rejection was a good thing.

A blessing in a damn good disguise.

As she leaned over, the edges of her hat brushing up against the glass, she saw Carmen's eyes looking at her from the reflection.

She looked like she wanted to say something.

Everything about the case was already in motion. The warrant for Tim Haspel's arrest was processed. The patrol cars were following them, just in case they needed back up. The lights were flashing, the sirens were off. There was nothing about the case she could possibly have to say.

Shane watched the mirrored image of Carmen shift uncomfortably in the driver's seat. She watched her as she gripped the steering wheel tighter. She watched her as she opened her mouth and prepared to speak.

Sunday April 8: Schecter/ Stevens/ Sweeney Residence 7:32 p.m.

Jenny cupped her hands together to bring water to her mouth. As she swallowed, she heard a knock at the door.

"It's Max," he called from outside.

"I'll be out in a second," she called back.

"Don't worry about it. Nikki just wanted me to tell you to come to the kitchen."

Jenny swallowed a lump in her throat. That girl was probably trying to do something nice for her again.

Why did she keep doing that?

Now, Jenny really did have to keep that promise of hers and tell Tim tonight. She now felt this odd compulsion to keep her promises and it was starting to turn her stomach.

"Jenny?" Max called, not having heard her say anything for a while.

Jenny opened the door, fully clothed, and looked at Max. She was going to need some help. He had the same pitiable look on his face that he always had, though Jenny never knew why.

"Max, are you doing anything tonight?" she asked.

Judging by his face, the boy nearly went into shock.

"Uh.. n-no why? What do you need?"

"Can you come to The Planet with me? I don't want to go alone tonight."

"Why don't you just go with Nikki?" he asked, growing sullen.

Jenny just smiled and cocked her head to the side. He didn't need to know the real reason.

"She's got to film late tonight. Besides, I really want to go with you."

It was that smile; that smile that only Jenny could do, that made Max's hair stand on end and his heart melt a little.

"Sure," he agreed.

Jenny nodded and headed down the hallway.

Nikki heard the approaching footsteps and a chill ran up her spine. She was nervous and not just about the dinner.

Max had just come in giving her the same evil stare that he always did, the kind that always unraveled her sense of self. He was more angry than usual for some reason and he'd decided to take it out on Nikki, threatening to tell Tim about her and Jenny…... again.

He was always making that threat, it was generally an empty statement, but today Nikki took it to heart. She knew it would be better if Tim heard straight from Jenny's mouth and she didn't want to give Max the opportunity to say it first. Not tonight of all nights.

While Max had so politely offered to let Jenny know that her dinner was ready, Nikki set the table. Even though she was nervous, there was no reason for Jenny to suffer.

She put on her best face when she walked in the door.

"Wow," Jenny said, "is this all for me?"

It played out like a fifties sitcom – that is, if fifties sitcoms involved young lesbians in love serving each other store bought spaghetti because they couldn't possibly make their own.

Jenny sat down, acting all impressed at the meal.

Nikki said it was nothing, that she just wanted to do something nice for Jenny.

Jenny insisted that she didn't have to go through all the hassle and Nikki said it was none.

All that was missing was the two kids, the poodle skirts, the sock hops, and the malt shops.

It was just that sweet.

At least until Max appeared in the doorway with that ever menacing look on his face just for Nikki.

"Hey, Jenny can I show you something really quick?" he asked.

Out of some odd compulsive reflex, Jenny looked over at Nikki for approval. After receiving the affirmative nod, Jenny followed Max out the studio leaving Nikki in the kitchen with her thoughts.

_I can't let him do this,_ she decided.

But how was she going to stop Jenny from going out tonight?

She couldn't just tell her she didn't want Jenny to tell Tim, that wouldn't make any sense since she'd been consumed by it for the longest (quite odd, considering when they started out Jenny was the one concerned for Tim's feeling but, hey, this is Jenny Schecter she was talking about. There's no reason to question _Jenny's_ motives).

Nikki looked over her shoulder and saw Max and Jenny deep on some conversation that apparently didn't concern her and looked like it might take a while.

She sighed and bit into her breadstick.

"Ow," she said, holding on to her cheek. She'd forgotten that side of her mouth was still sore from the stitches in her mouth.

It hit Nikki like a lightning bolt and she stood up just as fast, walking to the bathroom. She grabbed the orangey brown bottle of prescription painkillers that had knocked her out when she was on them and went back to the kitchen.

Fortunately, Jenny – despite her protests of fatty foods and determination to keep her tiny figure – loved cheese in her spaghetti and lots of it. Nikki quickly went to work grinding up the pills as fine as she could, looking up and checking occasionally to be sure that they were still --

She saw movement towards the door of the shed.

She scooped up the power an mixed it in with Jenny's plate before quickly stowing the bottle in her pocket.

"Are you okay, Nikki?" Jenny asked, entering the kitchen without Max.

Nikki was standing ramrod straight, looking slightly guilty, but Jenny dismissed it. Nikki wasn't smart enough to do anything worth being concerned about.

"Yeah," Nikki nodded, sitting back down. "I was just waiting for you."

"You're so sweet," Jenny told her as she rejoined Nikki for dinner. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

TBC


	15. The Facts Were These

Sunday April 8: The Planet Café 10:16 p.m.

Tim was on a mission.

He had received a phone call. Well, two actually.

The first was from Jenny, asking him to meet her at The Planet that night, but that was not the reason for his mission. The second call came from someone whom he'd never heard of.

_Who the fuck is Adele Channing? _

And how did she know Jenny? And how did she know Tim's number? And most importantly, who was she to tell Tim that his girlfriend was a whore? A dyke whore at that. When he tried to call Jenny back, her phone was turned off.

So now, he was standing the door of The Planet, his head filled with questions and his blood coming to boil. He rammed his way inside and pushed his way around the crowd, looking for her.

_Where is she? Where the fuck is she?_

He moved past a couple of blondes grinding up against each other on the dance floor, nearly tripped over a group having drinks, and almost rammed someone into the wall for bumping into him. He didn't have time for all this.

"Hey," a voice called from behind him. It wasn't a friendly greeting or even question of concern; it was stern voice signifying that he had better explain himself.

He turned around saw Marina, with her arms folded looking at him as though she dared him to even yell at her.

"What do you want?" Tim asked. He already didn't like her. She was always challenging him like she was superior or something.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. Her voice was always condescending; her dark eyes were always, always lingering on him with an intense sense of disgust and indignity.

"I'm looking for Jenny," he answered defiantly as though he were ready to fight.

"Well, she's not here," Maria told him just as boldly as he had. "So either calm down or take it outside."

They stared at each other, face to face. Their eyes almost perfectly level except Marina's heels gave her an inch on Tim.

"Fine," Tim said, deciding it was better not to waste his time with this bitch. "I'll wait for her."

They exchanged looks once again, like jungle cats circling each other before the fight, before Marina disappeared back into the crowd to get back to work.

Tim chose a spot up against a wall that was as close to separated from the crowd as he could get. He leaned up against the wall and let out a deep breath before looking down at his worn tennis shoes. He shook his head until the pounding music for the sound system couldn't be heard anymore.

Who the fuck was Adele Channing? And what did she know about Jenny? And most importantly, was it true?

No, of course not. This was Tim Haspel's girlfriend, and she was just lucky enough to be with him. And she should have told him if she was having money troubles. When he finally calmed down, none of it really made sense. It had to be a lie, but this feeling in his gut was troubling. He needed something to put his mind at ease.

He stepped out to the back alley and breathed in the warm night air. As the smoke from inside started to clear from his head, he pulled out his cell phone, needing to Jenny off his mind for a while.

"Hey, Mark, are you busy?"

Wednesday April 11: Somewhere on the Streets of Los Angles 2:06 p.m.

Carmen could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she looked over at the brooding figure next to her. Instead of looking directly at Shane, she looked at the window she was staring into.

At first, her eyes were glazed over, mindlessly staring at things passing by, but suddenly her eyes rose to focus and Carmen knew she was caught in the reflection.

Carmen felt her mouth go dry as her lips parted to say something, _anything_. Why did words always fail her when it came to Shane?

No words came out of her mouth and she knew Shane had pretended not to see her. It was easier that way and maybe even better for the both of them.

Monday April 8: The Planet Café 12:08 a.m.

Jenny was nervous. She had been there for over an hour, and her insides felt like mush. And she was so sleepy, she could feel the weight of her eyelids bearing down on her, but she couldn't fall asleep. She couldn't rest until she had done it, until she had told Tim and kept her stupid promise to Nikki.

Her remedy for being tired and nervous compounded was a vodka red bull, several actually. She knew Tim was there; Marina had pulled her aside when she walked in and told that he was there and mad already. She knew Tim had a temper, but it was rarely ever directed at her. But she figured, with her luck, if she had to meet up with an angry, drunk Tim, she might as well be angry, drunk and energized herself.

She looked around from her spot near the back door, masked in darkness. Max was nowhere to be seen and hadn't been almost since they'd arrived. On the bright side, her headache had subsided thanks to the extra pill she'd taken just before she left. But, now, she stood in her corner alone keeping an eye for Tim.

Suddenly a rush of panic overtook her. All the stigma around her were suddenly more than she could handle; the bass and beat from the speakers, the heat generated from the moving, shaking, sweaty bodies not too far away from her, the alcohol and energy drinks she continued to fill herself with. With a great inhale, she pushed to open the heavy door with "EXIT" glowing above.

She staggered out into the night and almost fell against the wall of the alley. As her entrails burned within her, she grabbed her sides and sat herself up against the wall. Jenny turned her head up towards the blackened sky and saw only blurs of where lights should be.

She stifled a sob inside her as she heard approaching footsteps. She immediately rose to feet and made her way to leave, not wanting be seen by anyone.

"Jenny?"

She turned around and saw Max standing there in the dim light of the alley.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jenny nodded, obviously lying. The tears were still rolling down her face uncontrollably.

"No, you're not," he said, stepping closer. "What happened, it's okay you can tell me."

"Nothing," she insisted with a sniffle. "What are you doing out here anyway?"

He ignored her question.

"We should probably get out of here."

"No," she shook her head. "I don't want to leave. I can't leave just yet."

"Why not? Jenny what's going on?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll be fine."

"How can I not-" he began, but decided against it. Instead he gave into her will. "Fine, but you at least need to sit down somewhere."

Jenny agreed and let Max help her back into The Planet. They found Kit (Jenny tried to spend as little time with Marina as possible these days) and she let them in her office.

Once Jenny had finally sat down in a chair, Max began to question her again.

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong?" he asked.

Jenny just shook her head.

"Can you get me some water?"

Instead of arguing or demanding to know, Max heaved a sigh and did as he was told. He couldn't help it.

After he'd left the room, Jenny stood and looked around. She steadied herself before moving towards the door, finally resolving to look for Tim. It had to be done, she couldn't out it off any longer. She just wanted to get it over with.

But as she exited the room, her stomach gurgled with nervous nausea until she flew to the bathroom.

Blindly, she stumbled into the nearest stall and the door fell open.

There, from her position on the floor, Jenny looked up and finally found Tim locked in a rather compromising position with Mark kneeling right in front of him.

Wednesday April 11: Apartment of Mark Wayland 2:21 p.m.

The sun had switched positions, but it was still burning hot, especially inside Carmen's close fitting bullet proof vest. The word "POLICE" written across the chest lead her way up to the door in the old apartment building.

The hallway was painted with a sort of dingy yellow color, like mustard if you splattered it on the wall unevenly. There was a broken window mounted A/C unit at the end of the hall, lending false hope to the heat stricken.

All the doors were and unsightly green and the one she stood in front of, 502, was ready to be knocked down as soon as she gave the signal. She tightened the grip on her gun, a .40 Smith and Wesson, and nodded to the uniform holding the battering ram.

With a loud bam, the door hit the ground and they all entered, Morales, the uniforms…. McCutcheon.

_But no time to think about that, Carmen. Find the killer, and then fix your non-existent love life._

They stepped in treading lightly for whatever reason, but loudly calling out.

"Tim Haspel, this is the Los Angeles police department. Come out from where you're hiding."

After turning cautiously around a corner, Morales was face to face with a hapless looking young man with wild hair and sporting only boxers and tank top with his hands up.

"Don't shoot," he said, obviously scared.

"Are you Mark Wayland?" she asked, not bothering to pretend like she cared.

He nodded.

"Look," he whispered, "Tim is back there in my room."

"Okay, we'll take it from here," Morales said, moving past Mark once he was covered by at least two officers.

"Be careful," he said, but his words fell on deaf ears as Carmen moved out of his range.

She pressed on towards the bedroom; her gun raised and her senses heightened which is why she heard the almost silent footsteps behind her. She knew who it was without turning around and continue toward the white door at the end of the hallway.

_This isn't going to be easy._

She placed her hand on the doorknob gently and waited before turning it. McCutcheon finally stood opposite her a side of the door and nodded.

Carmen flung the door open and Shane stepped in first, leading with her gun. Carmen followed and caught sight of the spectacle that was a the man they'd seen earlier, standing in the window, looking at the both of them with the most pained expression on his face.

"Tim Haspel?" McCutcheon called.

Monday April 8: The Bathroom at The Planet Café 12:31 a.m.

"Oh my god," she said, scrambling back to her feet. "I'm so sorr-"

"Jenny, wait," Tim called zipping up his pants. "I swear, it's not what it looks like."

"Hey, it-it's okay," she said, slowly backing away, holding her hands up innocently. "It's okay, Tim. If that's what you want, I mean, I understand completely. I know how it feels."

"No, Jenny," Tim said, silently signaling for Mark to leave. "You don't-" He paused suddenly once Mark was gone. "Wait- what the hell do you mean 'you know how it feels'?"

Suddenly, that air of superciliousness that often overcame Jenny took over. She shook her head compassionately and put her hand on Tim's shoulder.

"I mean, I know what it feels like to fall for someone like yourself. You know, someone of the same gender and it's okay Tim." She nodded. "I think this is a sign that we should break up anyway. I mean, I was about to."

Tim looked down at his hands, his fingers spread and palms facing up, before finally looking a Jenny with a look of disbelief.

"What did you just say?" he said, shrugging off her hand on his shoulder violently.

"Now, Tim, I know it can be confusing, but I think you should really pursue this thing that you and Mark have together. It could turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to you."

"No," Mark said, shaking his head. "What the fuck did you just say? Are you fucking cheating on me? And with a woman?"

Jenny looked shocked and appalled.

"What does it matter who or what I was with? Besides, I just walked in here and saw some guy's lips wrapped around your cock. You have no right to get fucking self-righteous with me."

"That's not what happened, my zipper was broken."

Jenny just sighed and rolled her eyes at how believable that was.

"And anyway," Tim continued, "don't change the fucking topic! You cheated on me with a woman! Who the hell was it? I bet it was Marina, wasn't it? That' s why she's always giving me those fucking looks."

Jenny shook her head and spoke quietly.

"It's not Marina, Tim. And you know what?" she asked, sniffling a little and wiping a little tear away from her eye. "It doesn't really matter. All that matters now is we- we really shouldn't be together."

"Oh, so you get to make that fucking call? _You _cheat on me, and all of a sudden you're the goddammed voice of reason? What sense does that make?"

"Tim," she said, still speaking pitifully soft, "I'm just trying to do use both a favor."

"A favor?" Tim repeated, laughing sarcastically. "I'm sorry, but I came down here because you called me and two seconds after that I got a call saying that you're a stripper at some dyke bar in East L.A. And then, you come in here and accuse me of getting a blowjob from Mark, and you say that breaking up with me is a favor. The favor that I could have used, Jenny Schecter, was you doing this a long time ago before I got moved my entire life out here for you. Or better yet, you could have told me right off the bat when we first met that you were a crazy, psychotic, pathologically lying bitch."

"Is that really what you think of me?"

"Jesus," Tim sighed, "are you really going to make this all about you? Are you that fucking hurt that someone finally told you the truth? Well, here's some more truth for you, your writing sucks."

"Take that back," she said, suddenly aggravated and moving closer to Tim.

"Are you serious? That's the one thing that seriously pisses you off? Having your writing insulted?"

"Take it back, Tim," she repeated, still growing closer.

Tim took one looked her and scoffed.

"You're drunk," he said, shaking his head.

He lightly pushed her back and she slipped on a wet spot on the floor. She twisted in mid-air until her stomach slammed with her full weight into a nearby sink. Tim winched at the sight and tried to offer a hand to help, but she viciously knocked his hand away.

"I don't need…. your fucking help."

Tim raised his hands in defeat and backed away towards the door.

"Fine Jenny," he said. "If this is what you want, then fine."

Once Tim disappeared, Jenny forced herself to get up, but she had a hell of a time with it.

The booze, the drugs, the energy drinks, the yelling, the headache, that damn headache that had come back with a vengance. It was all too much. Far too much for her to handle, she decided as she made her way back to Kit and Marina's office, holding onto to her stomach for dear life.

Max still wasn't back for whatever reason. It didn't matter to Jenny, she wanted to be left alone anyway.

She slumped down in front of the desk in the most morose way possible. Everything, everything, everything was getting to her today. It was like she hadn't done one thing right since she'd woken up. Really, when she thought about it, she hadn't really done anything right in quite a few years. And what had led her down this path of ruin?

Well, that was the worst part. The fact that she didn't know. She didn't remember the transition from small-town girl wanting to be a writer to this….thing that she had become. Even Marina was giving her disgusted looks these days.

The only thing that had really gone right for her was Nikki, of all things. And she didn't even feel like she deserved that. Nikki, as touched as she was, still deserved someone better than Jenny.

_Dammit,_ she thought.

_Dammit, dammit, dammit! _ she thought over and over again, each time banging her head on the solid oak desk behind her until that was all she felt and that was she could do.

Eventually, when she could feel blood escaping her head and her vision became more blurred that before, she stopped and tried to stand, but to no avail. She fell flat on her face and busted her lip wide open.

She groaned loudly in defeat, a groan that Tim heard from outside and caught his attention.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed, entering the room. He looked at her; she resembled a chewed up rag doll thrown in a corner, except that she was real.

He moved over to help her up.

"Come on, we need to get you out of here. You need to get help. Who did this you?"

"You did," Jenny said, staring at him with cold, half glazed over, blue eyes.

"Don't say that. Don't blame your shit on me. Now get up, already."

Jenny shook her head.

"What if I don't want to get up right now? What if I want to fucking die here, Tim?"

"You're crazy, Jenny. But I'm not going to let you die."

"That's where you're wrong." She laughed a little and coughed a little blood into her hand. "Look at that," she said, showing it to him proudly. "We don't have much time left and Max will be back here any minute. So you know what you're going to do for me?"

"I'm going to let you die?"

"Please don't let it get to you. I know you've thought about it at least once tonight."

"But-"

"Please, Tim. Do me one last favor." She coughed and this time hacked up more blood. "Just let me go."

Against his better judgment and against every single cell in his body, Tim Haspel turned and walked out of the office.

Wednesday April 11: The Apartment of Mark Wayland 2:32 p.m.

"We need you to come down from there," Morales told the quivering man with half his body hanging outside the window.

He was shaking, almost shivering really. It was almost like he had shell-shock and the slightest thing could easily set him off. They both recognized it. Shane from constant field work, Carmen from personal experience.

He was ready to dive. He'd done everything he felt he was needed to do and it was time for him to go.

Why didn't he stop her? Why, why, why? Why didn't he help her? Why did he just have to give her that last gift, that last present, that last desire that only he could give?

Why?

"I-I can't do that," he said, shaking his head.

"You can," McCutcheon told him. "Just to show you that she trusts you, Dt. Morales here is going to put down her gun and help you back inside."

"What about you?" Tim asked.

"One of us has to be holding a gun and, trust me, you want it to be me."

McCutcheon took Tim's silence as a sign of approval and nodded to her partner, telling her to lay down her gun and go help him. McCutcheon stepped closer as she did so, carefully watching Tim as the rest of his body came inside the cramped, hot, disgusting smelling room. As he slid down to the floor, she finally moved closer to his level, closer to Carmen.

"It's time for you to go," Morales told him.

He knew that already, of course. It had been time for him to go three days ago, the longest three day of his entire life. Pretending, posing so hard, acting like nothing was wrong. Bit Tim wasn't that strong, nobody was. He had to break sooner or later. And now he had broken. He was sad, he was tired, and he, like the rest of them, those that followed Jenny, were finally broken.

Tim raised his weary head and looked at Carmen.

"I killed my girlfriend," he said. "I loved her, but I still killed her. Do you have any idea what that feels like?"

Carmen removed her eyes from Tim for just a second and caught a brief glimpse of Shane who wasn't paying her any attention.

"Yeah," she finally said. "I do."

To Be Concluded


	16. Been Afraid

Wednesday April 11: Carmen's Apartment 10:14 p.m.

Dt. Carmen de la Pica Morales sat her apartment alone, feeling split in two. Her hair was down. You couldn't really tell when it was in her usual ponytail for work, but it was really quite long. It brushed against her back as she leaned away from the TV.

She was drinking a soda instead of her usual tonic, trying to relax this whole day away. And she was, for the first time in a while, satisfied with the fact she'd finished the case. Not just the fact that it was over, but the fact that there was an answer to the question of who killed Jenny Schecter. It wasn't simple, but it was still an answer.

Carmen didn't get many answers to the questions in her life. She'd settle for what she got.

The past three days had been a headache and she was much overdue for some rest. On the other hand, she couldn't help but think about how she had left things with McCutcheon. After their little mishap in the sauna – well, it was wrong to call it a mishap. She certainly wanted it to happen, she was just so hesitant. So afraid.

She had made a point of evading Shane's gaze for the rest of the day. It was hard to do; she knew she was there, watching her intently. It was difficult to not want that gaze on her and not just because they had to work so closely, but also because she didn't want it to be like this.

She didn't want to dislike Shane.

She didn't want to get into fights with her or have to avoid her because she was embarrassed whenever she was around.

And mostly, she didn't want to McCutcheon to decide that she needed to leave and move to another town as she was apparently accustomed to doing whenever things went south in a hurry.

Carmen sighed and looked at the soda can in her hand, wondering if -– no, that wasn't right - hoping that she could make things right with her tomorrow.

There was a knock at the door.

"Who the hell…" Carmen muttered as she got up to answer it.

She opened the door and was face to face with her partner. Not her sunglasses and hat covering her face, but Shane. Shane with her green eyes and soft lips and still unreadable expression.

"You know, you are the most infuriating woman I have ever met," she said.

"M-McCutcheon, what are you-" Carmen began.

"It's Shane," she corrected, stepping inside. "My name is Shane and yours is Carmen, and right now, I'm not being a cop. I'm not being your partner."

"What- what are you doing here?" Carmen said, stepping back, slightly afraid of the semi-crazed look in Shane's eye.

Shane gave her the same answer she'd received earlier in the sauna: a kiss full of uncertainty, a kiss tinged with doubt, but mostly a kiss of desire.

Carmen slowly broke the kiss in attempt to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her.

Shane reached back and closed the door before looking at Carmen with that strange look in her eyes, like she was lost. Like she was searching for something.

"I can't do this anymore," she said, licking her lips. Her heart was pounding as she looked at Carmen's beautiful face, surrounded by long, dark hair. She smiled inwardly knowing that she had been right again.

"It's killing me to just look at you and not do anything," Shane said. She felt like she was almost begging, but if that's what it took, so be it. "And don't fucking act like it's not doing the same to you."

"I-"

Shane didn't let her answer this time. Instead she cupped Carmen's face in her hands and kissed her, softly this time. Delicately, her lips lightly brushing Carmen's before coming into full contact and lingering there, just enjoying the moment before her tongue asks for and is granted permission into Carmen's mouth.

Her hands snaked down around Carmen's waist while Carmen's reached up and around Shane's neck. Shane broke the kiss and rested her head on Carmen's shoulder, taking in the scent of her and her hair. Everything Carmen.

"You smell nice," Shane murmured, her eyes closed, still taking it in.

Carmen giggled a little and sniffed.

"Are you still scared?" Shane asked, holding her closer.

"A little."

Shane looked up and saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

"Shane," Carmen said, saying her first name for once.

Shane nodded and wiped the tears away slowly. She inched closer a little more and left her hand on Carmen's soft cheek before she brought her lips down until Carmen met her.

Carmen softly moaned into Shane, getting to feel her fingers running through that wild, messy hair again.

Their kisses turned from unhurried and delicate to passionate and feverish. Their hand wildly roamed over each other's bodies. Soon they were moving down the hallway, clumsily but fluidly, leaving a trail of clothing behind them.

Shane and Carmen dropped onto the bed, limbs entangled, half-naked with ragged breaths.

Finally, Shane moved on top of Carmen and took in all of her glory – her caramel skin glowing the moonlight filtering in from the window, her beautiful dark brown hair encircling her head like a dark halo, her eyes, looking up and wanting, waiting – before kissing and touching every inch of Carmen's body that she had dreamed about for the past three days.

She moved worked her way down, leaving a hot trail from her mouth…

to her chest… she spent a long time at her chest nuzzling and kissing. She ran tongue around Carmen's nipple, forcing her to let out a wild moan and exalted sound of emotion that drove Shane even more crazy…

to her stomach… Shane absorbed herself in the taste and scent of Carmen's warm skin beneath her touch…

down to black lines of the tattoo that decorated Carmen's hips covered only by a thong.

Carmen exhaled sharply, coming to amazing conclusion that a dream was no substitute for reality as Shane removed her last article of clothing between them.

Carmen looked down and saw Shane looking at her between her open legs, full green eyes waiting for permission.

She nodded and within seconds was gripping her headboard, trying unsuccessfully to stifle the screams more than ready to escape her. She felt Shane raging against her core, pushing her over the edge already.

Her back arched and she let go, moaning at the touch and feeling of the woman everywhere inside her.

"Shane…" she panted as all other words escaped her. She needed it. She needed to see her.

Shane looked up moved back to Carmen's mouth, happy to oblige in any way possible.

And for the first time in so long Carmen tasted herself, and maybe for the first time ever, did she get so much out of it, made even better by the fact that she was feeling her way up and down Shane's toned back.

As Shane moved her hand down between the two of them, she caught a glimpse of Carmen's eyes. She froze for a millisecond because she now understood completely. She understood the tears in the hallway and she understood that look now.

It said, _Don't hurt me_.

It said, _As_ _much as I'm afraid of myself, I'm just as terrified of the rest of the world around me._

_So, please, don't hurt me._

Shane lowered lips to Carmen's neck and kissed her softly, over and over.

Telling her, _I'd never._

Once Shane's hand had reached its target destination, the warm and wet spot begging to be loved, Carmen's breath grew more uneven and out of control.

And Carmen understood as well. She understood that Shane might have never felt like this before and she might never again. She understood that Shane needed to know the feeling.

She moved her own hand down to Shane's boy briefs and mirrored her movements until they both moving in and out of each other at the same rhythm. Driving other more insane, feeling each other at the same pace.

"Fuck…" Shane exhaled.

Carmen only nodded in reply, glad that she could return the favor.

"Carmen…"

"Shane…"

"…"

They were both quiet when they came simultaneously, only letting out sharp breaths and silent "fuck"s and feeling the wave of warmth rush between their bodies.

Shane looked down and saw the tears, now fully realized in Carmen's eyes.

She rolled herself over to the side before kissing them away and silently falling asleep together.

------

_"And it's knee-jerk to brace for attack..._

_...(Hold your heart up)_

_'Never raise your hand'_

_She says that with a grown-up's voice_

_'I'm yours, now_. _Just like a child_

_'Please don't be scared, now'_

_It clicks, a piece finally fits._

_'I love you'_

_(They say that with their lips)_

-------

Carmen woke up in the middle of the night, holding her head, swearing she'd just had a dream that made Monday night's seem tame in comparison.

But she rose up and saw figure sitting by her window.

So it wasn't a dream.

"Shane?" she asked, confused for so many reasons.

Shane sat silently in a chair by the window with the light falling down on her like she was of some other divine race. She was fully clothed, just staring at Carmen pensively, confused as well.

"Shane, what are you doing over there?"

Shane looked away momentarily, biting her fingernail. She turned her head back quickly and asked, "What did you do?"

"What the hell are you talking about? You already asked me that."

"No, what did you seriously do? Not to end up working with me. What did you seriously do to yourself? Why are you punishing yourself?"

Carmen sat upright in bed, pulling the cover over her naked breast, feeling tired.

"Why do you think I'm punishing myself?" she asked quietly. "And what makes you think I don't deserve it?"

"Because I've never met anyone like you before. Because I can tell you're hiding something. Because you're so busy living in the past of whatever happened, that you won't let yourself enjoy anything good that happens today. Because maybe there's some crazy part of me that wants to love you, but I know you won't let me because you're afraid."

"And you're suddenly and expert on relationships?"

Shane ignored her and kept going.

"The only reason you act mean towards me and Alice and everyone else is because you don't want us to know you. But that's not going to work anymore, Carmen. Stop hurting yourself."

"What could you possibly gain by asking me all this? Why do you think you can just magically fly in here and fix me? This isn't some fucking fairytale."

"No, it's not a fairytale," Shane said grimly, shaking her head. "And and before I answer your question, let me ask you something. Before tonight, before I came over here, when was the last time you cried? I mean, did you ever actually own what happened? Or did you just assume it was your fault because it was easier that way?"

The room was silent. Outside was silent. There was nothing for Carmen to hear but Shane's words coming so close to the truth, yet missing it by a mile.

"When Tim asked you if you knew what it was like to kill your girlfriend, you weren't talking about hurting me were you?"

"Get out," Carmen said finally.

"I don't think you deserve this."

"I said, get out."

Shane stood up moved to the door silently, like her feet never touched the ground. Before she left, she looked back at Carmen who was sitting dejectedly in bed looking back at her. Shane stuck her hands in her pockets and shook her head in disappointment.

"To answer your question, the only thing I stand to lose or gain from this is you."

Carmen watched Shane walk out the door in complete silence.

She couldn't go back to sleep, of course.

So she just sat there until the feeling of Shane's presence had finally left the room.

She eventually got up and made her way to the living room, rubbing her forehead, but still no sound. No sobs, no sighs, nothing. She was silent, but the world around her felt so loud. She needed noise, some kind of noise. Something that made sense and gave her something else to focus on.

Because nobody, not even Shane, was going to make her face what she had worked so hard on ignoring and pushing to the back of her mind.

She turned the TV on and turned to one of the stations that just played music. No videos, no flashing lights, just the songs as the artist originally intended.

Carmen looked up when she heard a familiar soft guitar intro and basic drumbeat. The voice that came out was unique and unchallenged. He knew what he was talking about. He'd been through this before.

"_When you were here before,  
Couldn't look you in the eye  
You're just like an angel,  
Your skin makes me cry_

You float like a feather  
In a beautiful world  
I wish I was special  
You're so fuckin' special"

Then, the guitar grew louder and violent, shaking Carmen from its original softness. The words were hitting too close to home and she repressed an urge to sob. An urge she hadn't felt in years until three – four days ago now. __

"But I'm a creep,  
I'm a weirdo  
What the hell am I doin' here?  
I don't belong here

I don't care if it hurts,  
I wanna have control  
I want a perfect body  
I want a perfect soul

I want you to notice  
when I'm not around  
You're so fuckin' special  
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep  
I'm a weirdo  
What the hell am I doin' here?  
I don't belong here, ohhhh, ohhhh

She's running out the door  
She's running out  
She run run run run...  
run... run..."

_  
_Carmen didn't get the point of the song when she first heard it. She was thirteen back then. And young, stupid, blind, and most importantly not damaged yet. Back then, it was just a lot of college students and a few kids in her class who likes the song. She couldn't understand why. She couldn't figure out the obsession with that strange looking man's wailing voice and insane motions.

But now?

Now she got it completely. Not so much the obsession, but certainly the admiration. The reason why people thought this song was so brilliant, as evidenced by the tears running down her cheeks that she shed no matter how much she didn't want to. They were silent, but they were finally being shed. They were hers.

_Are you happy now, Shane?_

_  
"Whatever makes you happy  
Whatever you want  
You're so fuckin' special  
I wish I was special_

But I'm a creep,  
I'm a weirdo  
What the hell am I doin' here?  
I don't belong here

I don't belong here..."

She let out deep breath and shook her head. Her insides were burning with feelings of guilt and remorse. But, she'd always been like that, so what was the point of crying?

Why was is it so damn important to cry and feel? Why did the past keep trying to resurface? And what did Shane know?

McCutcheon, the pain in Carmen's ass since they'd met some 72-odd hours ago. Also, the reason why she sitting on the couch sobbing like she hadn't in years. Also, the reason why she'd laughed for the first time in ages, even if it was just laughing at her mistakes. Also, the reason why she'd gone for entire night without a drink.

So, what did Shane know?

Thursday April 13: Shane's Apartment 8:35 a.m.

Dt. Shane McCutcheon went through her regular morning routine of getting up, but today it took lot more motivation than others.

And people wondered why she never settled down and dated just one girl at a time.

It wasn't Shane's fault she wanted to avoid that big mess that sucks and fucks with your life, and here was the perfect reason why.

Because it was always a mess.

Because it never ends well.

Because this one had actually ended before it even started.

Because now she had to move again.

Shane decided that was it. No more trying to change people into something they weren't. No more seeing below the surface and possibly falling in l-

becoming hopeless over them.

Just girls, girls, and more girls from now on. Sex with no attachments and no emotions. Uncomplicated fun.

Now, that sounded right.

As Shane prepared set outside, ready to take on what she hoped would be her last day working with the LAPD, especially Detective Morales, she look down and saw there was note slid under her door.

Curiously, she picked it up and decided to read it before she left.

_Shane,_

_I'm sorry about last night – the second part of last night. And you're right, I am punishing myself, but I do deserve it. I only told you part of the story about Dana. The truth is, I was actually in love with her. That's why we were so close. But I met Dana at the wrong time. When we were partnered up, I was dating a girl named Lara. We'd been together for a while and I was starting to get bored, but I didn't have the heart to break up with her. She was so in love with me. _

_One day, I asked her to run out the convenience mart to get something for me. Really, she was just getting on my nerves and I needed to call Dana. When Lara went into that convenience mart, she got shot. She died because I was too selfish to at least break up with her. It _was _my fault. The shooter was a drug addict looking for a quick score. They found him dead from a heart attack two blocks away from the store. So there was no one left to blame but myself._

_And I blame myself for Dana's death as well. The day she died, I had gotten into an argument with her about Lara. I think I accidentally blamed her. That's why I was so distracted when the suspect pulled the gun. I was too busy feeling guilty about Lara and when I finally snapped out of it, Dana was dead too._

_So, I'm sorry. I can't help but feel guilty. It's the only thing that keeps me sane. I punish myself because I believe I deserve, it even if you don't. Two women who loved me are dead because of my selfishness and I can't do that again. Even if I still can't fully face what I did, I can prevent it from happening again. Namely, by recommending that you spend your time chasing someone else. I'd prefer it if you were happy someplace else, rather than dead trying to be with me._

_- Carmen_

Shane set down the letter and flopped back on her couch. She stared at the ceiling and thought about the past three days. The laughter, the smiles, the taunting, the rejection, the depression, the constantly felt dull aching for something else, and that sickly feeling that was left over in the end.

The entire thing was nauseating.

With a sigh, she finally rose up and got ready to leave.

She needed to find Detective Morales and thank her for saving her life.

**Epilogue**

**Three Months Later**

"_Hey."_

"_Hey, yourself."_

"…………_.I'm sorry."_

"_Don't be. You can't let it get it you."_

"_But, I should've been better to you. Things like that don't just happen."_

"_Sure they do. It happens all the time. I'm not saying it's a good thing, but it's life. Life, you know? It keeps moving. You can't stop it. Even when you try, you just can't stop. And besides, good things happen, too. Like her, for example. I always knew you had good taste."_

"_You mean my partner?"_

"_Is that what the kids are calling it these days? And see? That's another great thing. It's so great to see you smile again."_

"_Has it really been that long?"_

"_Yeah, it really has. Look, I'm gonna let you go. You have to work now."_

"_Okay. I really am sorry."_

"_Tell you what? I'll forgive you as soon as you forgive yourself. Goodbye, Carmen."_

**Ring**

**Ring**

"Bye, Lara…" Carmen murmured, half asleep, awoken only by the incessant ringing of her phone. Her sleepy eyes wandered over to the digital clock on the nightstand that read 5:02 am.

"Shit," she muttered, reaching for the phone.

"Yeah? ….. Where? ….. I'm on my way ….. No, don't bother. I'll call her."

Detective Carmen de la Pica Morales sat up in bed and ran her fingers through her hair.

She was exhausted. She hadn't had a good night's sleep in… she didn't know how long. Her body ached, she was terribly sore, parts of her she didn't even know she had were hurting.

And yet, she had never been happier.

She looked over at the source of her exhaustion and smiled before lowering herself down to her ear.

"Hey, McCutcheon, wake up," she whispered.

She received only unintelligible groans and mutterings in response.

She moved her lips closer to Shane's ear and spoke again.

"Baby, wake up," she purred. "You have to work."

Shane groaned and slowly raised her tired head from the pillow.

"Give it a rest, Carm," she sighed, trying half-heartedly to open her eyes. "I'm only flesh and blood."

Carmen laughed and sifted her fingers through Shane's hair.

"Get your mind out of the gutter. I mean actual work. You know? Your job that pays bills. The one you do in the daytime."

"As opposed to the far more satisfying job I do at night," Shane said, raising up and planting kisses up and down Carmen's neck.

"Yeah, that job," Carmen said, her breath already growing uneven. "Okay, stop it or else we'll never get out of here."

"Maybe I don't want to leave," Shane said, pausing momentarily, looking at Carmen with large, begging, green eyes.

Carmen looked at her and laughed out loud, something she found herself doing more often these days. "Okay, now we really have to go."

"Fine, killjoy," Shane sighed, rolling of the bed. She looked back once she noticed Carmen still hadn't moved and was watching her get dressed.

"Aren't you getting ready?" she asked, pulling her left leg through her pants.

"I don't have to go home first to get new clothes," Carmen told her, comfortably leaning back up against the headboard. "Besides, I'm enjoying the view."

"Now, whose mind is in the gutter?" Shane asked as she put on her jacket and walked back over to the bed.

She planted a kiss on her partner's- on her girlfriend's lips and smiled.

"See you in a few?" Shane asked, delicately brushing a lock of dark brown hair away from Carmen's face.

They smiled and exchanged glances, loving dark brown eyes into enchanted green eyes. Carmen kissed her back.

"Yeah, I'll be there."

Carmen watched Shane exit and waited until she heard the front door close before she flopped back onto the bed with a contented sigh.

The End

The chapter's title comes from the first song used, "Been Afraid" by rapper P.O.S. (not p.o.d.). The second song is "Creep" by Radiohead, that being said, this chapter could've also been titled, "Thank God for Radiohead," but I decided against that.


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